


loose lips

by kitthae



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, M/M, Minor Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Secret Relationship, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 45,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24572059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitthae/pseuds/kitthae
Summary: He’s never felt this loved. He’s never been this scared.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, background nomin - Relationship, background tenwin
Comments: 54
Kudos: 315





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday Hyuckie, here's 16k of angsty Renhyuck smut.
> 
> I have been working on this fic for about a month, and it's one of my proudest works so I thought I'd share :^) This wouldn't have been able to exist without the help of my wonderful better half Laura, who helped me brainstorm, sat through my screaming sessions and cried with me :") Thank you so much, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you.
> 
> Please tell me if I forgot any tags, I tried.
> 
> Part two is already done! I will read over it and edit it in the coming days, so please be on the lookout for that! It's much longer than part one (almost double the wordcount) and it will definitely take me some time to edit it, but it should still be up within the next week.

“Name?”

There’s a flutter of cameras, clicking like the beaks of birds on the stone floor, bright white flashes in his eyes. Renjun smacks his lips impatiently, and pushes his sunglasses up his nose to shield himself from the oncoming headache. Ten gestures towards him, but the lady seems unimpressed.

“Name?” she asks again, clack of her bubblegum pink nails against the smooth mahogany desk.

“Ma’am, no offense, but this is  _ Huang Renjun.” _

Hidden by his sunglasses, Renjun rolls his eyes. He could be taking a nap right now, he’s been up and going since seven this morning and his _ feet hurt, _ but — Ten has to make absolute fools out of them wherever they go. At the airport, the car rental place, now the hotel, and Renjun is just tired. He picks at the seam of his sweater and dreams of a soft mattress and an ice cold martini.

The receptionist doesn’t even bother to turn to her computer. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Of course we do!” Ten gasps. “There should be two rooms booked under this name, Huang Renjun. If you could please just hand out our key cards, it’s H - U —”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves her hand at him and finally,  _ finally, _ turns to hack her fingers into the keyboard. “I got you the first time. Your rooms are on the top floor, please remain quiet in the halls. Someone will handle your luggage.” She slides their key cards over the counter, and with that, they are dismissed.

“What an unfriendly lady,” Ten grumbles on their way to the elevator. 

Renjun wants to make a remark about how he kind of started it, but he keeps his lips clamped shut. They leave the fluttering cameras behind, finally — he takes a deep breath when the elevator doors slide shut. The vent over his head blows cool air into his face — onto his neck, a little damp with sweat. It was cold in Seoul, but Melbourne in February is too hot for a big sweater and long pants. His hand curls around the blessed cool of the handle inside the elevator — polished gold — and rakes his eyes up the cheesy pattern on the wallpaper. Golden and red vines wound around each other, reaching for the ceiling like lovers’ hands, shimmering like a snake’s scales. 

Ten looks ruffled after a long day, like he’s been picking at his own feathers. His hair has grown past his cheekbones in the past weeks — Renjun can hear Sicheng nagging in the back of his head, but they haven’t seen him in a while, now, so Ten probably doesn’t care — and he brushes it behind his ears when he thinks. He’s shed his jacket; his arms are already tanner than Renjun’s are, and he’s a little sweaty, too, after the long trek. 

Their reflections stare back at them from the mirror at the inside of the door, and Renjun decides right here that he will ignore every single picture of him from today that gets posted to the internet. They would be a few stabs too many at his ego, and he’s not sure if he would recover from that.

“Well,” says Ten when they reach their floor. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Rest up. Big day tomorrow.”

Renjun runs his key card through the reader and slips away through the door before Ten can say anything else. He doesn’t want to think of tomorrow just yet — all he wants, right now, is to empty the minibar and bury himself in the sheets of his king size bed until he forgets that his human form exists. 

He sheds his sweater — still too hot despite the conditioned air — and doesn’t bother putting on anything else, or wasting any time inspecting his room. He takes a shower, instead, as his first course of action, scrubs the sweat out of his hair and pours expensive hotel body wash down his chest until he smells like a baby swaddled in vanilla and a rose petal powdered ass. It almost makes him gag, but it’s better. Better than before, when he creeps into the big bed, his clothes still scattered across the room, silky sheets against his skin. He’ll clean up tomorrow, he thinks, presses his head into the pillow and pulls his knees up to his chest.

_ Tomorrow, _ he thinks as consciousness slips from in between his fingers and he sinks deeper into the mattress.  _ Tomorrow will be another day. A new day, to be exact. A whole new life. _

“Oh, come on, Renjun.” Ten pounds on the door — it echoes against the insides of Renjun’s skull, the pounding, it’s way too loud in his ears. He didn’t drink last night, or did he? No, he’s sure he didn’t, but his head hurts like he did. It pulsates, he feels every rush of blood pumped through the veins under the thin skin of his temples. “Get  _ up.” _

Ten doesn’t have a card to enter his room — but he does have the entirety of the film crew, the stylists, the other managers and directors, and possibly even the hotel staff on his side, so Renjun isn’t safe from him here.

He grants himself another two minutes, lets his eyes flutter shut and buries his nose in the pillow. When Ten knocks again, he raps against the wood so hard that he might break his knuckles any minute, and Renjun finally pushes himself up on his elbows. His body sinks deep into the mattress, it leaves a distinct imprint when he crawls out of it — it pains him to do so. He feels empty and cold in the filtered morning air, like a ghost, like he’s floating half an inch above the ground in the worst way. Uncomfortable, yet thrilling, a hint of mint that leaves the mouth cold. Artificial, but real. Supposedly real. Isn’t that just his life?

Ten knocks again, and Renjun shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m up,” he calls. “I’m up, give me a second.” He treads across the scattered clothes with care, pulls sweater back over his head before he opens the door.

Mornings in hotels are the strangest kind of freeing. He brushes his teeth in front of the pale ghost in the mirror, fingers curled around the marble sink while Ten chats in the background, idly, he might just be reading their schedule for the day. Renjun isn’t listening, he combs his hair back and keeps his lips sealed, and his ears.

He eats breakfast in a big hall with the other guests and here, no one looks at him. There are no cameras, no shutters going off in his face, the people passing by the window don’t think to look inside. Renjun picks a few too many sausages off the buffet and Ten gives him a pointed look. Renjun eats them all just to spite him and his diets, chews slowly with his eyes on Ten’s face. He gets up for seconds, and Ten gives up.

Half the crew is here this morning, they all stay here or in other hotels in the area. The director butters his toast at a table with his wife and a few other people, Ten tells him they are producers and heads of other departments. The table next to them — stylists, costume designers, make up artists and arrangers, they chat over cups of coffee and tea. Not many other guests reside here at the moment, or maybe they are just too early for any of the others to be here for breakfast yet. Renjun pours himself another glass of orange juice and watches.

“We should get going soon,” says Ten. He pops the last piece of his carefully sliced toast into his mouth and wipes his mouth with a red napkin. “The car’s waiting outside.”

First day on set is always … strange. It’s meeting new people, new stylists and directors and sound crews and other actors. He walks around the set for a bit, takes in the new area and tries not to look like a sweaty pig while he does so, before he settles into the hair and make up department.

They’re already filming a scene while Renjun gets his face penciled and his costume fitted. He’s not playing the main character — he auditioned for the role, but they wanted him for someone else. It’s still not a small role, so he can’t complain, and he’s really not all that disappointed. Not the main role, but he’s still in front of the camera, and he knows how to play a convincing act well enough. The director loved him during practice.

He met most of his co-stars at the table reading and he knows — he knows the face in front of the camera. Lee Donghyuck, known to the world for his sunny smile and the way he tucks a piece of hair behind the main actress’s ear, right now. A simple gesture that will soon make the hearts of thousands of little girls swoon.

Renjun watches him, the way he moves and flirts, immersed in his character. That perfect facade Renjun knows all too well: don’t let them see. The wall has to be unbreakable, or you won’t get very far.

He’s being ushered around himself, behind the camera. Someone fixes his hair one last time, and then there’s the sound crew and the grip, they position him as they prepare the next scene before this one’s even finished. Maximum efficiency. Renjun lets them, does as they say.

Lee Donghyuck and his co-star fall out of character at once, and the director gives a clap, satisfied. They’re done, and Renjun is up next, right after the set designers have done their work.

“You know your lines?” Ten asks. 

Renjun rolls his eyes. He doesn’t bother to reply, and he doesn’t have to — Lee Donghyuck falls into the chair next to him, a stylist at his side. Her concealer brush almost digs into his skin, but she does her work well. Quick, efficient, she fixes his hair and make up in no time, and someone else helps him into a new jacket. 

“Hi,” he says, half a smile turned to Renjun when they give him a moment to breathe. 

Renjun blinks at him. Half a second passes before he says, “Hi,” he tries for kindly. He tries for a smile, but he is mostly — surprised. They met at the table reading, and of course Renjun knows who Lee Donghyuck is, he smiles at him from every magazine cover outside every kiosk Renjun passes on his morning jog. There are billboards of his face in Seoul, right next to the billboards of Renjun’s face. He glistens over their city in the dim morning fog, perfect skin and glossy smile and now — he’s right here. Right in front of Renjun, and he says  _ Hi. _

Donghyuck opens his mouth again — he has a blemish, right there on his temple, Renjun notices and it almost makes him smile — but the stylists come back. One of them pulls at a strand in Renjun’s hair until he yelps, and then — it’s his call, the cameras are in position and the director looks impatient.

Ten claps him on the back, and Renjun almost forgets about Lee Donghyuck and the pimple on his temple as he pulls into position, pulls up the facade. He almost stops thinking about it. Almost.

The first evening finds Renjun in the hotel bar despite the way Ten scowls at him — his call time isn’t until afternoon tomorrow, and he has yet to try Australian liquor. 

Every time they fly out to a different country for a movie, Renjun suggests they go a few days earlier so they can enjoy the trip for a little while before the filming starts — and every single time, his management refuses. Ten will shake his head at him and tell him to stop dreaming, to start taking his job more seriously.  _ Being a celebrity is not all alcohol and expensive parties, _ he’ll say.  _ You have to put the work in, or you’ll be out of the job sooner than someone can fix up that hair of yours. _

Renjun knows all that, and yet — he raises a glass of cognac to his lips, lets it pearl on his tongue for a moment.

The bar smells like cigar smoke and expensive liquor, faintly like the sweat under people’s clothes and a woman’s perfume as she leans across the bar, into her date’s personal space. 

No one here looks like the would normally frequent bars — at least, not the kind of bars Renjun knows from back home. The woman wears her hair pinned to the back of her head, tied with a bow that matches her dress, the golden light low over the bar reflect off her jewelry — the dangling earrings, the gems on her fingers. The man she’s talking to, certainly more of an eye piece to Renjun, personally, wears an ironed shirt and a bow tie loosened just far enough.

Renjun looks away when the woman hooks her finger under it. He has his limits.

Some of the production crew smoke and share a bottle of golden whiskey by the window to his right, but Renjun doesn’t have the heart to join them. Not tonight, he thinks, and lifts his glass back up to his lips.

“Should you be drinking the night before a take?”

The golden light makes Lee Donghyuck look tanner than even Ten — maybe he is. He stands a few feet away, sweep of hair in his face like drawn with black coal over the intense acrylic of his skin; his color bursts past the lines. Or maybe the cognac blurs him around the edges. A smudge in the perfect painting, but he’s — Renjun can’t stop his eyes. They wander down from Donghyuck’s face, the charcoal moles on his cheekbones, over the sharp slope of his jawline, and oh. Another mole, and another one, maybe they are dotted in black ink, after all, not charcoal. Over his adams apple, and right there, above the dip of his collarbones. 

He’s changed out of his set clothes, and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone, his collar dips deeper down his chest than is probably appropriate in public. No wonder, Renjun thinks. No wonder.

His eyes flick back up to Donghyuck’s face. He smiles.

“Well, what are you here for, then? If not to drink?

Donghyuck shrugs, and his feet draw him closer to the bar. “Got me there.” He moves like a dancer, like he’s pulling on his own strings, or maybe Renjun is just drunk. This is not his first glass of cognac tonight. Donghyuck snatches it away to bring it to his own lips and Renjun wonders — are they this close?

He feels as if he missed a part of their relationship, the part where Donghyuck started saying  _ Hi  _ to him, out of the blue, the part where he allows Donghyuck to take his drink like they are old friends. He wonders, for a moment, and he finds that he doesn’t mind it, really. Renjun is not that much of a people person. Well, privately, he isn’t. In public, sure, he’s good at talking, he’s a celebrity, after all. But privately, he doesn’t have that many friends.

He doesn’t know how to make them. There’s Ten, but Ten is his manager. They are friends, maybe, on a good day, but they met because they had to, because they work together. Renjun didn’t have to go out of his way to meet and befriend him — they are stuck together. Sicheng came with Ten, a two for one deal, a friend Renjun wouldn’t want to miss, but he never had to go out and become his friend, either. They just did. And then, who else is there? Jeno, maybe, if Renjun wracks his brain, but Jeno is back at home and they haven’t spoken apart from simple text messages for months. He’s known Jeno all his life, though, even before he was Huang Renjun, actor. 

So maybe this is an opening. Lee Donghyuck is a people person, he sits next to Renjun at the bar uninvited, and he orders his own drink and he offers Renjun a sip like they are friends. Renjun doesn’t say no.

He hadn’t meant to get very drunk tonight, but he orders another cognac because it’s good, and Donghyuck orders another margarita, and soon they don’t know whose glass is whose. Conversation flows so easily, about the set, the city, Donghyuck offers him another sip. Nothing personal, but they talk and the hours melt away.

“It’s late,” Donghyuck says close to Renjun’s ear, voice barely above a whisper.

Renjun raises his eyes to find that he is right, indeed, they are almost the last people left in the bar. The woman is smoking by the window, her partner seems to be gone, and a drunkard is sleeping on the bar a few stools down.

They slip away in near silence, Renjun covers the bill and the elevator door slides shut in front of them.

In front of the cheesy wallpaper, Donghyuck looks — Renjun stares at their reflection in the mirror and Donghyuck catches him, and smiles — he still looks like a blotch of paint. Out of place, he’s so out of place, an error in the painting, but he draws attention. Renjun has always liked the unconventional.

“You should rest,” Donghyuck says, and Renjun barely remembers when they got out of the elevator, past the kitschy wallpapers and over the deep carpet of the hallway. They are in front of his room — did he tell Donghyuck which one is his? He must have — and Donghyuck is smiling at him. “You still have to film tomorrow.”

He does, he fingers the keycard out of his pocket and whispers a goodnight. Donghyuck whispers back, and Renjun falls into his bed, slides between the sheets without undressing.

Lee Donghyuck is — a flirt. That’s all there is to say about that, it’s not really up for debate. Nor does Renjun have to think much to come to this conclusion; after all, this is Donghyuck’s nationwide reputation. He flirts with interviewers and paparazzis, the journalists that show up wherever he goes; he doesn’t seem to care whether they’re male or female, he never seems to look too closely at anyone, but he flirts like his life depends on it — and yet.

Renjun saw it, about two weeks before they flew to Melbourne, on a magazine cover on his morning jog.

Lee Donghyuck reveals he has never been in a relationship.

Now, Renjun, he tries not to care about other celebrities’ private life. He knows how hard it is to keep it all locked up, privacy is a secret hard kept when you spend most of your life in front of a camera. He knows the confusion and the devastation, the feeling when your stomach seems to plummet into your hips when a piece of your privacy manages to escape from the bubble your craft around yourself, and the public eats it up, talks about it for days.

It’s happened to him, it happens to all of them, at some point, and he knows it’s not nice.

So — he tries not to. Not to care, not to look when someone who is so much like him gets a piece of their private life exposed to the public, just like that. Maybe even under the pretense that they revealed it voluntarily.

That morning, though, he couldn’t stop himself. He slowed to a halt in front of the kiosk, vaguely sweaty in the icy February morning, roar of the city drowned out by the music plugged into his ears and Lee Donghyuck’s glossy face smiling at him from the shiny cover of a magazine on the rack. He took a step closer, picked it up for just a second, out of sheer curiosity. He’d met Donghyuck for the first time at the table reading for their movie the week before, he’d seen the way he flirts with everyone around him with his own two eyes, and now —

Lee Donghyuck has never been in a relationship. Wow, big deal. He put the magazine back down, shook his head and continued his run, and really, he doesn’t know why he’s thinking about it right now.

Sprawled out in this king sized hotel bed that smells like generic laundry detergent and nothing like home. The alcohol filtering out of his system makes his head thrum; he should get up and get himself a painkiller so its effect will kick in before he has to be on set, but his limbs feel so heavy. And he’s thinking about Donghyuck.

He didn’t read the article back then, he never even thumbed through the magazine’s pages. He didn’t need to — the headline below Donghyuck’s perfectly photoshopped face said all a reader would want to know.

Not Renjun, of course. He doesn’t care. He was just gripped by curiosity, for a split second. He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care about the way Donghyuck smiled at him last night, the way conversation came so easily with him, like they’ve been friends for years. He doesn’t care about the hand Donghyuck kept on his back on their way to his room, the most unsubtle gesture, but Renjun — he doesn’t care. About the way he normally doesn’t even like margaritas, but it tasted so good when stolen from Donghyuck’s glass, his eyes on Renjun’s face.

No. He shoots up in his bed, ignores the pounding in his temples and the ache in his limbs and pushes himself off the edge. Second day in a row he wakes up with a headache — Australia isn’t kind to him so far.

He showers. He pulls on a change of clothes that doesn’t smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke and a hint of a cologne that isn’t his own. He eats two painkillers at once, just to be sure. It will be a long day on set, and if he shows just a hint of weakness, even if it’s off camera, Ten will have his ass served on a silver platter.

It’s not that late yet, he should still have time for a nap and a late breakfast before he has to be on set. He drains a bottle of water from the minibar, then half of another one just to get the feeling back into his toes. 

His script sits on the nightstand, his lines lined in Ten’s bright pink marker. He picks it up just to flick through the pages of today’s scenes, and he knows — of course he knows, he knows all of his scenes by heart by now — that Donghyuck will be there again today, that they will be on camera together for quite a while. Their roles are not that tightly intertwined, but they are on opposite sides of the main roles enough to meet. Opposite ends of a spectrum, they almost dance around each other in the same way the main couple does.

Renjun knows his role — he’s studied him inside out, the female lead’s brother with a stereotypical brood and a not so stereotypical crush on her love interest. This is a big movie, his biggest role yet and if his acting lands, this could get him very far. He knows all about that, considering Ten refuses to shut up about it.

Lee Donghyuck — the nation’s flirt, and a stranger in a hotel bar — isn’t going to steal this chance, with no amount of thoughts he shoves into Renjun’s head. He won’t let him.

“Things would be going considerably better if you would get over yourself and  _ look  _ at me.”

Renjun has never been more glad for his past self than right now, as he digs the bottle of painkillers that he took with him before he left the hotel out of his bag. Who else could ever love him like this?

Obviously not Lee Donghyuck, who stands behind him as he pops one into his mouth, with his arms crossed and a frown rippling across his forehead. He stands — moderately tall, Renjun will admit, just a bit taller than himself, lanky legs and his role’s hoodie unzipped across his torso. Of course Lee Donghyuck is attractive, in a way, why else would the entire country be fawning over him? There has to be something about him.

It just doesn’t help that he has to be attractive in Renjun’s fragile personal space — after a night of mildly suggestive drinking together, his hand on Renjun’s back, and he’s acting like nothing happened. 

Renjun’s head hurts more with every second he has to be spend looking at him.

“Sorry,” he manages after he flushes down the pill with a gulp of water. “‘m just hungover.”

This draws a smile onto Donghyuck’s face, pearly teeth and a crinkle by his eyes, and all; like there’s nothing more amusing than Renjun’s misery. Maybe there isn’t, as long as he’s sure that he didn’t cause it — and Renjun sure doesn’t want him to know why he’s feeling a little grumpy today. Not that he is too sure of why, himself. Why  _ is  _ he feeling snappy, why  _ does  _ his head hurt when he looks at Donghyuck? Sure, maybe he felt as if Donghyuck was flirting with him last night — in retrospect, maybe he was flirting back — and the thought makes things a little awkward, a little heavy between them, but it doesn’t mean anything.

Renjun is not the kind of person who gets stuck on these things. He doesn’t care.

“Well, I could tell you why that is, but I don’t think you’ll need me to.” It’s hard to ignore the stupid smirk on Donghyuck’s face when it carries in his voice, and Renjun holds himself back from flipping him off.

“Why are  _ you  _ not hungover?” he asks instead, stuffing the pill bottle back into his bag. He keeps it in the dressing room with the rest of his things that he discards before getting in front of the camera, and he isn’t sure why Donghyuck followed him here. If he just likes to get under Renjun’s skin.

Donghyuck shrugs. “Maybe I just know how to handle myself. As opposed to someone else, apparently.”

He smoothly dodges the slap Renjun throws in the direction of his shoulder. For a second Renjun wonders when he became comfortable enough around him to smack him for mean jokes, if this means that they are friends now because this is definitely how Renjun treats his friends, but —

“Renjun?” Ten rushes in through the door — his hair explodes past the neat gel style, and his cheeks go through a range of dark red tones in a matter of seconds. “Oh, thank god you’re both here. You can’t just disappear in the middle of a take, everyone is looking for you everywhere!”

“Sorry.” Renjun feels a fool: apologizing in the same pressed-out manner for the second time in a few minutes, for what feels like the same thing. The same reasoning, too, “I had a headache.”

Ten scoffs, a bitter sound, sharp from between his teeth, like an ache, or the venom of a snake — a snake with an unruly mop of blonde hair, and dark eyes that cut under Renjun’s skin. Ten grabs him by the wrist and yanks him back towards the set. “I hardly think I’ll have to to tell you why that could be, do I?”

Renjun sighs — he could swear he hears Donghyuck snicker behind him. His bones ache too much to turn his head and check, maybe send him a glare, so he lets it be. For now.

The sun burns down on him out here, it bleaches everything around him to a faint yellow. It leaves traces of sweat on Renjun’s forehead — like tear streaks spun the wrong way around — and a blush of red around Ten’s nose. Renjun grabs his fringe and tries to push it back over his head, to feel the sweet relief of a cool breeze against his heated skin, but it keeps sliding back across his face.

“I want you to remember, for future reference, that this was your idea,” Ten huffs as they trudge further down the sidewalk. “ _ I _ wanted to stay inside, where we would’ve enjoyed air conditioning  _ and  _ all inclusive food.”

Renjun rolls his eyes and pushes his sleeves back up over his elbows. He doesn’t grace Ten with an answer.

It’s a hot day out, yes, probably one of the hottest days of the year, according to the weather report on the TV over the breakfast hall. The air flickers with heat like a washed out screen, a tilted picture of a city — the hum of the sun buries itself deep in Renjun’s ear, but he keeps on walking, Ten at his heels.

“Well,” he says eventually. “You still agreed on coming with me. I could’ve gone alone.”

Ten shakes his head. “No, you couldn’t have.” His head inclines towards the rows of people on the other side of the street, leaning against the shop walls, pretending to be casually on their phones. Renjun knows they are sneaking pictures — well, not exactly  _ sneaking, _ from how obvious they are. There are faces he almost recognizes; the puff of chubby cheeks, a flash of bright red bangs in a head of black hair, those thick-rimmed glasses — people that must have already been following him around in Korea, or every time he went overseas. 

They are not here coincidentally, and Ten is right. Going alone wouldn’t have been safe.

Renjun pushes open shop door to his right and vanishes inside before Ten can barrel around to follow him. The inside greets him with cool air blasting from the vents — a small piece of heaven over his sweat slicked skin — and a jolly tune playing from one of the big speakers over the counter. The cashier smiles at him, but it’s a neutral one, not the kind of smile he usually receives. She doesn’t seem to know who he is, and Renjun breathes a breath of relief.

He’s not that popular overseas, thank god.

The shelves are stuffed full of miscellaneous things: a pile of chips bags right next to a folded pile of graphic tees, empty picture frames and plush toys, Renjun spots a rack of jewelry and boxes full of chewing gum. Kitschy little figurines, snow globes, a t-shirt with a  _ I ♥ Melbourne _ print that makes Ten roll his eyes — they have it all. Everything the small tourist heart desires, and Renjun finds himself going through their stuff with vigor, leaving Ten and his sour expression right by the door. He didn’t intend to actually buy anything on their trip but this is — this is exactly the kind of cheesy, messy little store he’s dreamed of visiting. This is a place for normal people.

The entire room is so full of things, of shelves spilling over, Renjun doesn’t know where to look first.

He marvels at the intricate art of a small bird ornament when his eyes catch on something else. A magazine rack by the counter, and Lee Donghyuck’s face on a glossy cover. Renjun feels himself drawn in like a moth to light.

It’s the same article he saw at home, back then, but in English. Donghyuck’s face smiles up at him, way more perfect than he is in real life, and below the big blue letters, fitting the color theme of the whole page:  _ Lee Donghyuck reveals he has never been in a relationship before. _ The eyes of the cashier burn on Renjun’s face, so he doesn’t dare flip through the pages and just gently sets the magazine back into the rack.

Ten is still standing by the door with his arms crossed — Renjun prays he didn’t see what he picked up. He isn’t sure if he could deal with the teasing, if Ten knew.

… If Ten knew what? He shakes his head and turns away. There’s nothing to know, he was just curious. Ten can know that he has a mild interest in what his co-stars get up to, there’s nothing wrong with that. He and Donghyuck aren’t even  _ friends, _ it’s natural for him to want to know more about someone he’s working with.

It’s natural that Renjun turns away now, and leaves the shop without another word. And that that night on set, he can’t tear his eyes off Donghyuck from behind the camera. 

He ignores the make up brushes digging into his face, the fingers pulling at his hair and the way the stylist aunties always talk like he isn’t sitting right between them. He pretends he doesn’t hear it, normally, but today he doesn’t. His eyes are on Donghyuck, on him and the main actress as they are smushed together in front of the camera.

Donghyuck changes into the perfect persona with a camera in his face, it’s so obvious even Renjun notices. As soon as it’s turned off, he reduces to a shadow of the nation’s flirt — he will never be completely gone, but behind all that make up and the obnoxious grins and his fingers brushing through a girl’s hair, he’s just a normal guy. A dude, Renjun would almost say, when Donghyuck winks at him and he can’t help his own smile.

“You’re annoying,” he tells him, later, when he’s brushing the hairspray out of his hair and Donghyuck is leaning against the doorframe of his dressing room. He  _ so  _ likes getting under Renjun’s skin. “Why are you so annoying?”

Donghyuck laughs. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” he says. His eyes twinkle when Renjun spins around to glare at him, in that very specific way that makes him look like both a puppy and a snake. Deadly, like he could end Renjun with a snap of his jaw, and yet Renjun wants to step closer and touch.

It’s unfair, for he knows exactly the effect he has on people, and he uses it shamelessly.

He leans closer when Renjun passes by him. “You shouldn’t underestimate me, though, Huang.”

“Ah. We never learn, do we?”

Donghyuck slides up to the bar beside him — the same fluid movement, except for the little stumble as he tries to get up on the stool, the same swoop of black hair. He’s wearing a floral patterned shirt today, dark grey against his skin, tucked into his pants. A bracelet sits snug around his wrist.

“I’m not drinking that much today,” Renjun says, though this is already his third drink.

“Mhm. Sure.” Donghyuck smiles and orders his own drink. Renjun doesn’t recognize the name, but it must be alcoholic enough to color his cheeks red within the first half of the glass. “Why are you here tonight?”

“Why do you think?” Renjun raises his own glass up to his lips. The taste of the alcohol is heavy and sharp on his tongue, cuts through the ends of his nerves and burns all the way down into his stomach. He hates it, he does — the burn in his throat that comes with tears shooting into his eyes, the bitter taste it leaves against the roof of his mouth, but. But — he loves it; the blur to his vision, the slight hiccup in his words. Everything is a little easier when he’s drunk, like the taste of the alcohol is pungent enough to burn away the worries.

Donghyuck blurs again, like he’s bursting past the lines. He looks good tonight — he probably always does, but it’s not like Renjun would be looking — even with his face flushed red from the drink. Even with his hair a little too ruffled. Even with his warm skin, when he rests a hand on the back of Renjun’s stool in a casual gesture.

“Can I ask you something?” Renjun blurts out before he can stop his loose tongue.

Raising an eyebrow, Donghyuck nods. “‘Course.”

“Why do you act like we’re friends?” He winces at the words as soon as they are out and shakes his head. “I mean, we barely know each other. And you’re acting like we’ve been friends since forever. Why.”

“Oh.” Donghyuck’s eyebrows climb even higher up his forehead, like he’s thinking, like he’s not sure of what he’s hearing. He retracts his hand from Renjun’s chair, and Renjun tries not to miss the warmth of his arm. “Well, I don’t know. That’s just how I always am with people. Does it bother you? Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Renjun breathes in. He takes another gulp of his drink, though he isn’t sure if that’s so wise. He just needs an excuse to look away from Donghyuck’s face. “No, that’s not it. Just. I was surprised, that’s all.”

“Hm,” Donghyuck says. He’s stopped drinking, Renjun notices, he’s just passing his glass between his hands now, back and forth. “You surprised  _ me  _ just now, you know. I don’t think anyone’s ever pointed this out to me. People usually just assume that it comes with who I am as a person, I guess. My reputation?”

Oh. Sure. Donghyuck is the nation’s flirt, of course he would act like old friends with everyone he meets.

That’s why he puts his hand back on Renjun’s stool, eventually, because Renjun doesn’t say anything against it — and they are comfortable, after all. Renjun wants to see this as an opportunity, still, a chance to make a new friend without the recurring awkwardness of him trying to approach people privately. He’s not good at this, but Donghyuck is. Donghyuck is a natural with people, and Renjun is all too happy to let him do the work for both of them.

So he doesn’t say no when Donghyuck asks him to go out for a smoke with him, even though he should know better. Ten will have him hanging from the flag mast if anyone sneaks a picture of them — hell,  _ Sicheng  _ would probably fly across the ocean just to personally gut him — but he still pries the cigarette from Donghyuck’s fingers and leads it up to his own lips. A taste of fire, tobacco and the rosy lip gloss Donghyuck’s mouth smeared on the filter. It’s been years since Renjun last smoked, but the way the fumes fill his lungs is still familiar.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Donghyuck leans his head to the side, and his eyes burn holes into Renjun’s skull.

“Haven’t in a long time.” He stopped after — after everything, he guesses. After all that had to happen happened, a rush to the hospital and his mother screaming at him. He wasn’t sick back then, but he could have been. He could’ve been dead, she told him.  _ What am I gonna do with a dead son? Quit the crap! Quit! _

“Oh,” Donghyuck says smartly. “Well, don’t start again, then.” He snatches the cigarette away.

This time it’s Renjun who leans his head to the side and fixes Donghyuck with a look. “Shouldn’t you be encouraging me to do it? You know, as a smoker.”

“Just because I’m stupid doesn’t mean I’m a meanie,” comes his easy reply, and they both snort. It’s easy that way, Donghyuck says a lot of stupid things, it’s so easy to laugh with him. “I’m serious, though. Just because I smoke I don’t necessarily think it’s a good thing to do, you know?  _ You  _ shouldn’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Well, there must’ve been a reason why you stopped.” He flicks off the ash, and they both watch as it gently floats to the ground in the light of the yellow outdoor lamp. “Also, you’re too pretty to smell like nicotine.”

Renjun bursts out with a laugh, and Donghyuck looks up at him with a grin. “Oh wow, you really are as much of a flirt as they say you are.” He can only hope that the yellow light will obscure the heat in his cheeks. 

“Yeah?” Donghyuck grins even broader; the smoke from between his teeth and the unnatural glow off his cheeks makes him look like a steaming monster from a haunted house — Renjun can’t look away. “You like it?”

He doesn’t grace Donghyuck with an answer, but he plugs the cigarette out of his hand again.

The night is surprisingly cold for how hot the days have been, Renjun almost shivers despite his jacket. It’s clear, not a cloud to be seen, but the light of the city won’t let him see any stars no matter how hard he looks for them. It’s a pity, really. He misses the stars from the window of his grandmother’s house out in the open country — neither home in Seoul, nor even further home in Jilin was he ever able to see them as clearly as there. Not in Melbourne, either, of course, and the sky looks so empty without them. A dark canvas, but the artist went missing years ago.

Donghyuck takes the cigarette back after a couple of drags and finishes it off. “Let’s head back in,” he says after he’s put it out under the sole of his shoe. “You look cold.”

They do, because Renjun  _ is  _ shivering now, and only when they step back into the warm lull of the bar does he realize just how much he’s had to drink. It’s always better with fresh air in his nose, but now his knees buckle down and he has to grip the wall to not fall flat on his face. Oh no. He has an early call tomorrow.

Donghyuck grabs him around the waist — his hands are a welcome warmth — and holds him up. “Okay, I think that’s it for you tonight, Mister.” He gently stirs him towards the elevator. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He doesn’t let go of Renjun inside the elevator — quite the opposite, his arm slides around him to rest against his tummy and hold him against himself. Renjun, still a little dizzy, gladly lets his body rest against Donghyuck’s. He’s warm — warm skin, warm breath — and soft around the edges. It doesn’t have to mean anything that they’re drunk half-cuddling in a hotel elevator, unless they let it. And Renjun won’t.

Donghyuck unlocks his door for him and leads him inside, just to make sure he gets to his bed safely. It’s not that late yet, Renjun realizes with a look on the clock on the wall, and breathes out in relief. He pulls off his jacket and his shirt, lets them pool by his feet before he goes to make work of his pants.

Behind him, Donghyuck lets out an indignant shriek. “Oh no no, don’t just get undressed there.”

“What?” Renjun turns around to find Donghyuck still by the door to his room, beet red in the face. “Why not? You think I’m gonna sleep in my jeans?” He stares at Donghyuck; at the red shade right under his eyes, climbing up the apples of his cheeks to the tops of his cheekbones, the shimmer of his eyes when he averts them — almost carefully so. “What, are you so embarrassed to see another man in underwear?”

Donghyuck shakes his head, but Renjun catches the way his hand curls around his own thigh.

“What happened to the nation’s flirt?” he asks, slowly thumbing open the first button of his pants without breaking eye contact. “Didn’t think you’d be so shy at the sight of someone undressing in front of you.”

Donghyuck’s adam's apple bops with a swallow — so heavy Renjun swears he can almost hear it — and he shakes his head no again. “I think you’re a bit drunk,” he whispers.

“A bit? That’s funny — _ I _ think I’m  _ smashed.”  _

He lets himself fall back on his bed and shimmies his pants down his legs with a bit of difficulty, but there’s no way he’s getting back up now. The silk of the sheets is cool against is skin, and while he was too cold just minutes ago, it’s a feeling he welcomes now. Almost has to hold himself back from raking his body against it, he thinks that would be a bit much for Donghyuck, still by the door and visibly clenching his jaw.

“Are you gonna stand there and stare at me all night? I’m about to pass out.”

Donghyuck makes another sound, at the very back of his throat, and turns around to door. Renjun tries not to miss the heat of his gaze on his skin and turns to his side. 

“Good night, then,” he says. He pulls his knees up to his chest, and closes his eyes.

But — he hears it more than he sees it — Donghyuck turns back around. He marches through the room and opens the mini bar fridge with a gentle suction sound. Renjun opens his eyes to stare at him.

“Hey, go raid your own mini bar if you want to get  _ more  _ drunk.”

Donghyuck shakes his head and resurfaces with a bottle of water — the plastic a little squished between his fingers. He seems to get over his own embarrassment and approaches Renjun’s bed. Holds the bottle out for him. “You should drink some water before bed. Or your head will hurt again tomorrow.”

Renjun takes the bottle and nods at him. He pushes himself up on one elbow to angle his head back and pour the clean cool down his throat. Donghyuck doesn’t avert his eyes this time; Renjun feels the heat spread into his chest.

He drains the last drops out of the bottle, and lets it drop on the sheets in a crumpled heap. When Donghyuck turns to move again, Renjun frowns up at him. He’s — he’s so hard to read. Renjun has never prided himself on his people skills, but he can still tell that something about Donghyuck is  _ off. _ He’s  _ seen  _ him, he’s seen the way Lee Donghyuck talks to people, with a perfect smile and a coy laugh and a twinkle in his eyes — he’s seen the way people fall to his feet within minutes of the conversation. Hell, he’s felt the need to do the same. Lee Donghyuck isn’t shy, Lee Donghyuck doesn’t turn beet red at the sight of someone — innocently — undressing. 

Except that he does, his face is still red, and now he moves to pull up Renjun’s comforter and tuck it around his shoulders. And he says, “Come on, you should get some sleep,” with the sweetest smile Renjun has ever seen him sport. He’s hard to figure out — until he isn’t. His hand shakes when he pulls it away.

Renjun smiles up at him. “Good night.”

Donghyuck is already halfway to the door, but he turns around again and smiles back. “Good night, Renjun.”

“Hey, Ten hyung.” He nudges Ten’s sleeping form with his foot, digs his toe into his thigh until Ten blinks awake, dark eyes under his blonde fringe, and he grunts. “Come on, how much sleep did you get last night?”

Ten pushes his leg away and sits up. “I don’t think you’re in any position to ask me that.”

They’re squeezed into the backseat of the car their company rented for them here, on their way back to the hotel. The air conditioning is running high, its constant hum fading into the background of Renjun’s mind, it blows a steady stream of cool air into his face, and still — he’s hot inside his thin clothes. Ten curled up in his corner of the seat the second they entered the car and let his eyes slip closed. Renjun almost envies him.

Going to sleep relatively early had done him good despite the amount of alcohol he consumed, and so did the water Donghyuck made him drink. The day on set wasn’t horrible. He did fairly well, he’s sure, the director didn’t yell at him as much as last time. But now, done for the day, his limbs are sagging — and he’s burning up.

He pulls his leg back up on the seat and nudges Ten again. “Hyung.”

Ten slaps his shin, this time. “What do you  _ want, _ ” he whines. “Let me sleep, it’s still at least ten minutes.”

Renjun fiddles with his phone, resting against his chest in his own curled up position. He was just scrolling through some articles, keeping up with what’s happening back at home. Useless crap about celebrities, the old cycle of rumors and fans complaining — about mistreatment, about feeling neglected by whoever. 

“How much do you think would dating rumors ruin my career?” he asks, just as Ten’s eyes slip closed again.

They fly back open at once. “What did you do?” Ten snaps as he scrambles into a sitting position. The laughter dies in Renjun’s throat when Ten winds a hand around his arm. Hard. “Renjun —”

“Calm down, nothing’s happening,” he huffs. “I didn’t do anything, I was just wondering. Good to know that you support me so much. You know, as my friend.” His lips draw into a pout.

Ten releases his arm and slowly leans back into his seat. Renjun can’t read the look he eyes him with.

“I do support you,” he says after a minute of silence. “As your friend. Of course I would be happy for you. But as your manager — and that is my  _ job  _ — I can only beg you to, like. Not do that. Please.”

Renjun knows. Of course he does, he’s been in this industry for long enough. It’s even worse for his colleagues on the idol front, but he’s seen actors like him get torn to pieces over mere rumors. Not to mention what would happen if they were proven to be true. A feast for those who just wait for them to slip up, to show that they’re human, too.

“I won’t,” he says, and he almost adds an  _ I promise.  _ Almost.

Making promises he can’t keep has never done him any good, and it never will.

“Renjun …” This time, Ten’s gaze is distinctly — sad. With his brows furrowed over almost watery eyes, he looks at Renjun like he’s never pitied anyone more. “I’m sorry. I wish I could give you a different answer.”

“No, it’s okay.” He leans back against the window, and folds his hands over his phone on his chest. Articles spilling over with celebrities’ personal information. He could pick any name, and a quick search would bring him results of scandals, controversies, rumors. They never get tired of them. He sighs. “I know you can’t. I don’t know why I asked.”

The hotel has an indoor pool at the very end of the hallway that Renjun’s room borders on. If you follow the kitschy patterns on the carpet long enough, past the spiralled golden lamps that bring a woozy light to the windowless hall — warm fumes start to rise up the walls, and a thick brown door leads into the white paradise. It’s so bright that it stings in Renjun’s eyes when he steps in, after the dim corridor. Paired with the chlorine air, tears swim in his eyes.

It’s — well, it’s paradise, after he blinks the tears away. Big ceiling windows show Australia’s clear blue sky, green plants climb up the white walls, their big leaves almost reach into the clear water. They’re provided with everything up here, from fluffy white towels to an assortment of shampoo bottles by the pool showers.

The water is cold against his heated skin and Renjun sighs when he sinks into it. He’s alone, which he guesses is not unusual, so he lets himself float around a little.

It’s not often that he gets to enjoy a free afternoon like this. He suspects Ten cleared his schedule because he’s still sorry for him after their conversation yesterday — there’s nothing to be sorry about, really, but Renjun still mindfully avoided a trip to the hotel bar last night. 

Of course he knows why he asked Ten about the dating scandals; anyone could’ve seen him and Donghyuck stumble through the hotel lobby, Donghyuck’s hands around his waist and the two of them falling in through the door to Renjun’s bedroom. He’s not sure how long they were in there together, he lost a bit of time. No one could’ve seen the heat that pooled in him, but he’s sure that no one needed to. It was obvious enough.

He floats on his back until he loses track of time, maybe minutes, maybe hours. He watches the sky. The occasional bird and a lone white cloud floating by until it’s all uninterrupted blue again.

Maybe minutes, maybe hours later, the door pushes open. It’s Donghyuck. Of course it is. Renjun sighs and pushes himself to stand back on his feet.

“Your manager told me where you are.” Donghyuck edges closer towards the pool. Renjun can’t read his face, the weird crumble of his eyebrows or the quirk of his lips when Renjun frowns at him. He’s not dressed to swim, button down thrown open over his t-shirt and shorts that reach midway down his thighs. Very pretty thighs, Renjun tries not to note, but he does anyway. His eyes rake down the silky tan skin, bare and unmarked and thick.

He swallows. “Were you looking for me?”

Donghyuck reaches the edge of the pool and the water doesn’t feel as cool anymore — Renjun feels as if he’s standing back out in the burning sun. “Yes.” That’s just Donghyuck’s effect.

Renjun’s feet carry him to the edge of the pool, too. Closer to Donghyuck. “Any specific reason, or … ?”

A beat of silence follows his question, and Donghyuck looks like he wants to make another step towards him before he realizes that he would land in the water with that. “No,” he says eventually, pulling his leg back in. “I just — you weren’t on set today, they told me they changed the order of the filming because you couldn’t make it. I asked your manager because  _ he  _ was there and he said he gave you the day off because you seemed stressed, so I —”

He cuts himself off, and Renjun tilts his head to the side. “You were worried about me?”

“No I —” Donghyuck takes a step back, and another, when Renjun reaches the edge of the pool. Renjun can’t tell if he’s trying to bring distance between them or if he just wants to keep looking at him. “I was just wondering.”

Renjun pushes himself up on the edge of the pool, and Donghyuck’s eyes move down from his face. The water trickles down his chest when he moves to heave himself onto the white tiles, but he refuses to take his eyes off Donghyuck’s face — he wipes his wet hair out of his eyes, back over his head. 

“Well.” He clicks his tongue and manages a smile. “I’m okay, if that’s what you’re asking. Gonna take a shower, though, I’ve been soaking in chlorine for way too long.”

Donghyuck breathes — so deep Renjun swears he can feel it in his own rib cage. His eyes follow when Renjun passes by him, past his clothes that sit neatly folded on a chair, and the fluffy white towels, towards the showers. They almost burn holes through his back with the intensity of Donghyuck’s gaze.

They are barely shielded from the rest of the room, only by a white swing door that covers Renjun from his collar bones to his knees; he turns on the water when he hears footsteps against the tiles. It should’ve been clear from the start, really, he isn’t sure why he ever doubted this. He turns the water as cold as it gets and calls out,

“Well? Are you gonna stand there all day?”

And yet — he isn’t sure. He tries to keep the shaking out of his voice. What if he read the signs wrong, the gazes and the tension, what if Donghyuck will snap at him, what if he will tell their managers and the media —

Fabric rustles outside the swing door and Renjun finds himself shoved against the wall a second later.

He gasps at the cold tiles against his back, the heat of Donghyuck’s hands as they wrap around his waist again. His entire body exudes this heat: like sinking into a warm bath, like sitting by a fireplace on a summer night, like lying by the poolside with your lover until you’re both tired from the sun, like — standing in the shower with your co-star, attractive enough, pretending that you can have each other. They’re pretending.

It’s natural, Renjun tells himself when Donghyuck asks, with his fingers brushing against Renjun’s jaw, “Can I kiss you?” and he nods yes without hesitation. It’s natural. They are both attractive — fawned over publicly, their faces are more popular than the movies they produce — and they are stuck in this game. Push and pull, be available but not too much. Be beautiful, be enthralling, be hot, but don’t you dare seduce. Don’t look at each other — but Donghyuck does, and so does Renjun, now. It’s natural, to crave something beyond the perfection. To  _ want. _

Donghyuck shed his button down outside, but his t-shirt clings wet to his skin when his mouth melts against Renjun’s. Even under the icy water he’s still burning up, he shoves a hot tongue into Renjun’s mouth.

And Renjun — Renjun slides his arms around Donghyuck’s shoulders, slides a hand into his wet hair and pulls. Until they’re pressed flush together, chest to chest and hip to hip, until they become one big ball of limbs and heat and  _ want. _ The leg Donghyuck slots between his thighs has Renjun gasping into his mouth.

He detangles one arm long enough to turn the water off.

Their hair leaves a trail of drops on the carpet in the hallways, in Donghyuck’s room since it’s closer, and on the bed, but they don’t pay attention. By the time the back of Renjun’s head hits Donghyuck’s mattress, his hair is almost dry again, and the shirt he threw back on for the trip to the room is still untucked, he forgot his jeans by the pool.

Donghyuck makes quick work of getting rid of it and they’re still kissing and Donghyuck’s own wet t-shirt lands somewhere to their side. Renjun slides a hand up his damp chest and Donghyuck grins into his mouth; even broader when Renjun licks across his teeth. They laugh without bothering to separate their lips; Donghyuck drowns the hiccup of his giggle down Renjun’s throat — Renjun pushes it back up with his own.

“Fuck.” Donghyuck sits up a little. He ended up between Renjun’s legs in the middle of all of this, Renjun’s thighs strain on either side of his hips and Donghyuck runs his hands along them. “Fuck, you have no idea —”

“Trust me, I do,” Renjun cuts him off before he can say it — before he can phrase out how he wants this, how much he  _ wants  _ them — and leans up to capture his lips in another kiss. “I know exactly what you mean.”

It’s easy. Things slot into place with them. Because they know, because Renjun knows exactly what Donghyuck means when he looks at him with sheer  _ hunger  _ in his eyes, and asks, “How do you want to —”

“I don’t care,” Renjun cuts him off again, because he doesn’t. His body is on fire, the flames lick at the insides of his skin and he writhes under Donghyuck on the bed and he thinks that if he doesn’t get Donghyuck’s hand on him soon, properly, he is going to die. “Please just — anything, just — please.”

Donghyuck seems to understand, he seals his lips back over Renjun’s and his hands grip Renjun’s hips like he’s trying to mould him into form, a searing grip, and harsh. He kisses him like their lives depend on it. Maybe they do.

His hands dip below the waistband of Renjun’s shorts at the same time as Renjun moves his kisses from his lips down his throat; Donghyuck rids him of them with a swift motion and minimal help on Renjun’s part while Renjun sinks his lips into the soft skin of his neck. Never his teeth, even if it’s tempting, it’s not worth the risk. Donghyuck smells alive down here, like sweat and chlorinated air, just a faint dusk of cologne not enough to bother Renjun. He kisses along his collarbones, chases the scent and the heat of a body so close to his own until he feels Donghyuck panting against his ear and the heat spreading in his thighs.

He’s so hot it almost hurts when Donghyuck pulls away from his kisses just long enough to get rid of his own pants. They hit the floor and Renjun shoots up to press his lips to Donghyuck’s face again.

Donghyuck grins against his cheek. “Impatient.”

Renjun is; the fire of the past few days threatens to consume him now. He buries his face in the crook of Donghyuck’s neck and presses his lips to the skin and Donghyuck pulls him closer, until he’s sitting on his thighs and their hips are so close together and Renjun doesn’t dare to look down anymore. Having his own dick out in front of what is almost a perfect stranger is embarrassing enough, he doesn’t need to see it pressed up next to Donghyuck’s.

Until — Donghyuck presses a kiss to his cheekbone and turns to spit into his own palm and he wraps a hand around both of them at the same and Renjun crumbles against him with a long moan.

It’s everything at once, sparks under skin and flames in his groin and Donghyuck’s body heat. He throws his head back and takes a moment to rake his eyes down Donghyuck’s chest: a long expanse of golden skin, covered in a sheen of sweat now, brown nipples perked up. He strokes both of his hands down along it, long enough for Donghyuck to catch his breath and start moving his hand; it sends Renjun crumbling down again.

He falls against Donghyuck’s shoulder, pants into his skin as Donghyuck strokes both of them in his hand. It fires up the buzzing under his skin, he bites down on his shoulder when Donghyuck flicks his wrist just right and — oh. Donghyuck does it again and Renjun  _ whines. _

“Fucking hell,” Donghyuck presses out from between his teeth, and picks up the speed of his hand until they’re both panting too hard to speak — Donghyuck moans when Renjun kisses him again and it makes Renjun’s hips buck.

It’s so hot, Donghyuck is so hot, Renjun feels suffocated. He moans into Donghyuck’s mouth, presses into his lips until he can’t tell where he ends and Donghyuck begins, he snaps his hips up into his hand to chase the friction of their cocks sliding against each other. The moans Donghyuck presses into his mouth vibrate down his spine until he feels himself be pulled apart at the seams, his hips shake and then Donghyuck’s free hand strokes up his side and he digs his thumb almost painfully hard into Renjun’s nipple — Renjun has to muffle a scream in him.

Now Donghyuck’s hips are stuttering as well, too impatient to stay fixed on the mattress. Renjun separates from his lips to press more kisses along his jaw, broken up only by hiccuping moans. Donghyuck’s own moans wash into his ear; broken and panting and accompanied by what sounds like a whine building in the back of his throat.

Renjun snaps his hips up harder and moves his lips further down. Over Donghyuck’s neck and the scent that’s buried there, down his collar bones and the soft muscle of his pecs until he reaches his nipple and flicks his tongue over it. Donghyuck lets out a broken groan and tightens his hand around them so harshly Renjun thinks he’s gonna come any moment. But Donghyuck just moves his hand faster, bordering on desperate; a whine spills past Renjun’s lips and he tries to bury it in the skin of Donghyuck’s chest. 

Donghyuck presses his thumb into Renjun’s nipple again, rubs it under the pad of the finger and flicks his wrist around their cocks just right and —

Renjun doesn’t have time to pull his head up; he sees stars, the sparks under his skin feed into the fire that now spreads into his chest and his legs and — fuck, he thinks he feels it in his nose. He can’t hear himself make any noise, his ears are blacking out, but his mouth rests open against Donghyuck’s chest right under his collarbones and the edge of his teeth digging into the skin must be what sends him over the edge as well. Renjun feels him rut up against him a few times before his nails dig into Renjun’s back and he releases on both their bellies.

“Fuck.” Donghyuck lets go of him and Renjun falls back onto the pillow, spent. His chest heaves hard enough for every breath to sting in his lungs. “ _ Fuck, _ I can’t believe we just did that.”

Donghyuck grins down at him. He’s flushed red from the tip of his nose down to his chest and sweat stands on his forehead and he’s glowing: a kind of smile that Renjun has never seen him smile in public. His eyes light up and he almost falls forward when he leans down to press a kiss to the tip of Renjun’s nose. “I know.  _ Fuck.” _

They kiss in the middle of their laughter and their teeth clash a little but Renjun doesn’t really care about the sting in his gums; he only cares about getting Donghyuck closer again.

_ Let’s not stop. _ He’s not sure if he says it out loud, but Donghyuck seems to agree. Their lips slide back together more earnestly and Renjun grips Donghyuck’s hair and Donghyuck grips his hips — and there are footsteps in the hall outside the door and Ten could show up any minute and bust them, and anyone could find out about this.

It’s natural, Renjun tells himself and hooks his arm around the back of Donghyuck’s neck to pull him back down. To want what you can’t have.

They don’t stop. If anything, they get more into it as their days on set progress, and Renjun can’t remember how he ever survived this job without this: a warm body to come back to, to bury himself in after nearly ripping the director’s head off all day. Donghyuck’s lips are warm and taste alive, like toothpaste and whatever he had for dinner on the good nights, and like thick cigarette smoke on the bad ones. His hands dig into the knots in Renjun’s neck and wrap around him without him asking for it. They keep him from, and they make him fall apart at the same time.

Digging into his thighs hard enough to bruise, holding them open for Donghyuck to settle between them, or nails sinking into his back when they come with their lips sealed together.

As their days get more stressful, with longer call times and more people taking notice of their presence, and Ten getting more suspicious of what they’re doing with each other, Renjun needs this. He needs Donghyuck in every way Donghyuck can offer to him; sex and kisses, but also just cuddles and laughter in the middle of the night.

He forgets which room is his and which is Donghyuck’s, both of their clothes strewn across both rooms, and the sheets smell like a mix of their perfumes wherever they go.

It’s the thrill of the forbidden that keeps them going, Renjun’s mind provides in the middle of the night, unbidden, as he lies in the darkness of his room with Donghyuck’s arm thrown across his waist and Donghyuck’s nose stuck to the back of Renjun’s neck, slowly breathing against him. The thrill of having what they normally can’t have, even if it’s just a for a while. They can’t have lovers, they can’t  _ be _ lovers, and yet they are. For now.

It’s Donghyuck sneaking out of his room before the sun rises and Ten comes to wake him. It’s sneaking glances at each other in public. It’s linking his pinky with Donghyuck’s for just a second on set, when his temper gets the best of him and Donghyuck steps just a bit closer than appropriate to calm him down.

It even is the looks Ten throws them, or how he remarks that he and Donghyuck have gotten  _ awfully _ close lately, haven’t they, when they’re squeezed into the car together again.

Renjun just shrugs and doesn’t take his eyes of his phone.

“Be honest with me here, Renjun,” Ten says with an exasperated sigh. Renjun looks up tentatively right as he throws his hands up. “Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”

Slowly, Renjun shakes his head. He knew Ten would catch on sooner or later, he just wished it would be later.

“I know you and Lee Donghyuck have been up to something. I don’t think I want to know what  _ exactly  _ you’ve been doing, but I know there something going on and — man, Renjun.” He pushes his hair up over his over his head and lets out a sigh so deep it shatters Renjun’s heart. “I’m not gonna tell you to stop, I don’t wanna tell you that you can’t fuck who you want to fuck, but. Please. Be careful.”

Renjun lets his fingers tap against the back of his phone, and smiles and says, “I am.”

“Fuck.” His head falls back against the thin plastic wall of the stall with a thud that’s just a bit too loud, but he can’t help himself. He sinks his fingers into Donghyuck’s hair and  _ tries  _ not to pull at the soft strands. 

Twenty minutes, that’s how long Director Kim said their break would be, and that should be enough for a quick blowjob in the bathroom. At least according to Donghyuck. He sidled up behind Renjun right after the break was announced, warm chest pressed to his back, and whispered the suggestion into his ear. The hot breath brushing over the side of his head and the hand tracing down his side had him stumbling into the bathroom minutes later, giving Donghyuck a bit of a head start so they wouldn’t look too suspicious. 

And now here Donghyuck is: the cold bathroom tiles digging into his knees, he has one of Renjun’s legs thrown over his shoulder and he’s going down on him like his life depends on it. 

Renjun feels like he’s gone straight to heaven. His chest heaves with the breaths he sucks in desperately to avoid moaning, his thigh tenses on Donghyuck’s shoulder when Donghyuck licks the pre-cum off the tip of his cock. It’s too hot, too cramped inside this tiny bathroom stall and Donghyuck drives him up the wall in more ways than one.

“Fuck,” he says again as Donghyuck tightens his hand around the base of his cock and goes down on him, “I don’t think you’re supposed to be this good at this.”

Donghyuck pops his cock out of his mouth again and grins up at him. He keeps his hand lazily stroking him until Renjun’s hips stutter up and his legs shake from the pressure. “Why not?”

Renjun gasps at a tiny kitten lick. “One might wonder what you’ve been getting up to before this.”

This elicits a laugh from Donghyuck, full with his cheeks puffing up into his eyes and a tiny dimple next to his lip and his cherry red tongue poking out to lick over his teeth. His mouth is always so  _ red, _ when Renjun kisses it or when he gets it on his dick. His hand stills on Renjun’s cock, but only so he can start licking up the underside of it painfully slowly, with his eyes fixed on Renjuns. “Wouldn’t you like to know that.”

Renjun shudders. Donghyuck’s mouth is so warm around him, so warm and wet and welcoming and he knows exactly what he’s doing, how to work his tongue in the precise way that will slowly drive Renjun into madness. 

Donghyuck is driving him mad, and Renjun has to stop himself from grabbing his hair and pushing him down, from fucking up into him without mercy and chase his own relief — he isn’t like that.

Instead, he lets Donghyuck have the reigns. He lets him do what he wants, go as slowly as he likes until Renjun is almost sobbing into the cold air, until Donghyuck has to push a firm hand against his hip bone to keep him from desperately bucking them up. Their time is running out and he wants to yell for Donghyuck to hurry up, to stop messing with him but all that fills his mouth are helpless sobs every time he opens it.

“Fuck, _ fuck. _ ” His fingers tighten in Donghyuck’s hair just a little. “Hyuck, I’m gonna come.”

Donghyuck licks up the entirety of his length one last time and then he slides it into his mouth, goes down as far as he can manage, it goes down his throat a little and then he  _ gags  _ and Renjun is gone.

He comes down Donghyuck’s throat like that, and he can’t believe Donghyuck is letting him do that — he swallows every last bit of it as he works his mouth on him throughout it and Renjun swears the sight alone could make him hard again. It doesn’t, though, because Donghyuck pulls off and away once his orgasm ebbs off, and when Renjun blinks his eyes back open he’s right in front of him.

Their kiss tastes like Renjun’s own come on Donghyuck’s tongue and it should be gross, but it isn’t. It’s all Donghyuck and his red, warm mouth and he’s holding onto Renjun’s waist so softly it feels almost tender.

“Your manager is gonna be looking for you,” he whispers against Renjun’s mouth. “You go first.”

“But —” Renjun reaches out to feel along Donghyuck’s hips until his hand meets his burning crotch, and the erection that tents his pants there. He can’t just walk out without reciprocating, let alone let Donghyuck walk around in front of everyone with such an obvious tent in his pants. “Don’t you want me to —”

Donghyuck hums and presses a quick peck to his lips. “No. Break’s probably almost over. You go before your crazy little manager comes storming in here, I’ll take care of myself and join you back on set in a second. Shouldn’t take too long.” His wink makes a blush burn on Renjun’s cheeks.

The implied thought of Donghyuck getting off to thoughts of him follows him out of the bathroom even after he stops to wash his hands and fix his hair in the mirror. 

“Fucking hell,” he breathes out. He’s going crazy.

Blinking awake in the middle of the night, Renjun finds himself alone. The bed is not cold — he forgets if it’s his or Donghyuck’s — so Donghyuck can’t have been gone for long. It’s three in the morning, anyway, a glance at his phone tells him, so where would he go? It’s not yet time for them to separate.

He sits up and lets the comforter slide off his bare chest. The room is unusually cold, a breeze brushes across his neck and — of course, the balcony door stands slightly ajar.

Renjun slides out from between the sheets and pulls a sweater discarded on the floor over his head — the way it falls past the mids of his thighs tells him that it’s Donghyuck’s — before he steps out onto the balcony.

Donghyuck is just … resting there. He’s awake, but barely, with his head leaned back against the backrest of the lounge chair, a cigarette dangling between his fingers and his eyes half closed as he seems to stare into the night sky. He doesn’t move when Renjun steps closer, but the corners of his mouth twitch up.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Renjun shakes his head and strokes his hand through Donghyuck’s hair. The strands are so silky, night black against his moon paled skin. His fingers glide through them with ease, and Donghyuck leans into the touch. That he doesn’t start purring is all that keeps Renjun from laughing at him. “Are you okay?”

Donghyuck nods, but Renjun doesn’t believe him. He looks tired. 

“Yeah, I just didn’t get a lot of sleep,” Donghyuck says eventually, and Renjun wants to step even closer to him. He doesn’t, though, because he can’t say what he would do, then.

“Not even with me next to you?” he asks instead, and tries for a teasing edge in his voice.

Donghyuck grins up at him, and this time the twinkle in his eyes makes him look just like a puppy — nothing dangerous, just something to hold closer. Renjun wants to. “You’re the only reason I got any sleep at all,” Donghyuck admits, and Renjun curls a hand around his cheek. He’s burning up, but he says, “Can you come here? I’m cold.”

Renjun steps closer without another moment of hesitation. Donghyuck reels him in with his arm around Renjun’s waist, and he finds himself situated between Donghyuck’s legs, tucked against his chest. Donghyuck buries his face in the crook of Renjun’s neck, and Renjun slowly breathes against his collarbones, stroking a hand up and down Donghyuck’s back. They cuddle so much, their bodies have started to fit together so naturally, they slot and lock together like meant to be. And yet, it feels different this time around.

Renjun can’t remember the last time someone held him this tenderly, not even Donghyuck.

The night is cool and a breeze washes over their heads, goosebumps creep up Renjun’s bare legs and he presses closer to Donghyuck. Donghyuck runs his hands up his thighs.

They don’t do anything out here, even though he knows they both want to. Fuck on the balcony, out in the open, one of them bent over the handrail, for the whole world to see. What would the world say, if they were caught like that? The mere thought is enough to thrill something deep inside Renjun, but that’s not what he’s here for now.

He’s here because Donghyuck looks like he will cry if Renjun pulls away now. He’s here to press kisses to Donghyuck’s soft lips and take his mind off whatever drove him out here in the middle of the night.

They share another cigarette and Renjun doesn’t ask questions and Donghyuck carries him back inside when his head sags against Donghyuck’s shoulder and his eyes threaten to fall shut.

“You’re heavy,” he huffs against him, and Renjun laughs. “Where do you store all that weight?” He sets him down on their bed, a little less than gently and it makes Renjun laugh a little louder. Until Donghyuck runs his hands along his sides and digs his fingers into his ribs and his laugh turns into choked out gasps. “ _ Where?  _ You’re so skinny.”

“Stop tickling me,” Renjun whines and bats at Donghyuck’s hands. “It’s all the talent.”

Donghyuck laughs out loud, lets himself fall forward until he’s squishing Renjun under his entire bodyweight. His face ends back up against Renjun’s neck, and Renjun wraps a hand around the back of his head. Donghyuck still giggles against his skin and Renjun can’t help his own smile, even if he can barely breathe. 

“Get  _ off  _ me, you asshole,” he whines eventually, though.

Donghyuck does roll off him, but he sits up next to him and grabs Renjun’s head to harshly pull him up and kiss him, hard, messy, wild. Still laughing. “Fuck, I hate you.”

Renjun laughs back until their teeth crash. He sits up, all tiredness forgotten, so that he can slide closer to Donghyuck again and kiss him properly. He threads a hand through Donghyuck’s hair. “I know you do.”

No one apart from Ten notices that anything is going on, not even Donghyuck’s own manager. Renjun sees them at breakfast every morning, usually about an hour after he and Donghyuck part ways just before the day starts for everyone else. Donghyuck will wink at him over his plate of eggs and his manager will not even look up.

He’s probably used to it, Renjun figures. To Donghyuck flirting with everyone around him, maybe even to Donghyuck having an affair with a co-star, who knows. Renjun considers himself too smart to believe he’s special.

But it’s nice. Being with Donghyuck is, Renjun can’t deny it. He’s warm and soft even when they aren’t fucking, he wraps himself around Renjun like a comfortable sweater you never want to take off, he stays around him like a crackling campfire you don’t want to step away from. His hand strokes down Renjun’s side as Renjun buries his face in his chest and breathes in his scent: faint cologne and rose oil and after sex sweat.

Donghyuck spreads him out on his mattress in the most innocent way, with gentle hands, and murmurs compliments into his skin where he presses kisses until Renjun feels like crying.

He’s never felt this loved. He’s never been this scared.

They are steadily progressing with the filming in the weeks and months Renjun and Donghyuck spend between the sheets. Director Kim keeps them drilled, always on the job. Until Renjun is at his wits’ end, nerves lying blank, and Donghyuck spends an entire night stitching him back together between his hands.

If Renjun knows he’s probably not special to Donghyuck like that, probably not the first and not the last co-star he fucks behind the camera, he also knows that this will not last. That the dream will be over as soon as they return home, and that he should stop before his heart is past the point of recovering from this. Maybe it already is, the dangerous part of his brain thinks when Donghyuck settles between his legs at night and kisses down the expanse of his thigh until he reaches where Renjun needs him the most, until Renjun’s heart burns to ashes with the ache.

He can’t stop. It’s too much, it’s too  _ good. _ When he thinks about it, maybe the thought that he will lose this so soon thrills him even more, makes him fuck into Donghyuck more desperately. It tips him over the edge, the desperation in Donghyuck’s moans when Renjun presses his thigh up against his chest and snaps his hips — and the desperation curling in his own stomach, of wanting to keep this, of wanting to make this worth it.

It’s maddening in the most addictive way. Renjun feels like he’s losing his head.

The thrill of getting caught, even if it would mean losing everything, the thrill of Donghyuck being  _ just  _ out of his reach, it makes it all so much better. When Donghyuck will barely look at him after they part ways in the mornings, not when they’re in public, not where people can see — and Renjun is the only one who gets to know. Who sees the hunger in his eyes when he smirks at Renjun across the room, who knows that as soon as they get home, Donghyuck will sink into his arms and they will take each other apart. 

Like a dirty little secret, when Donghyuck twists two fingers into Renjun and whispers into his mouth, “No one will ever know.” It’s addicting, and Renjun gets off on it more than he would like to admit.

Sleeping with Donghyuck is fun in ways Renjun has never experienced. He’s had sex with a lot of people, but never with someone who was as much alike him as Donghyuck is. They drive each other mad, Renjun can see the madness that blubbers inside him reflected in Donghyuck’s eyes. 

They wouldn’t be Renjun and Donghyuck if they didn’t fight even during sex, if their kisses weren’t all teeth and bite, nails digging into skin when Renjun snaps his hips down on Donghyuck’s cock with a triumphant grin. It’s a competition, like everything between them is, who can make the other lose it more. Renjun strokes a hand down Donghyuck’s thigh and digs his palm into his flesh until he whines into Renjun’s neck. Donghyuck sucks and bites into his skin until he lies bruised, he leaves him on the bed fingered open until he  _ begs  _ for it.

It’s the most humiliated Renjun has ever been in his life, and he’s addicted to the feeling.

He rests his sweaty head on Donghyuck’s chest, just over his collarbones, where he bit him the first time they slept with each other, so he can feel his heartbeat against his jaw. They’re all cleaned up, but they usually delay their showers into the next morning. Donghyuck brushes a hand through Renjun’s damp fringe.

“You’re so damn pretty,” he says, and Renjun snorts.

“Don’t get all soft on me now, Lee.” He keeps his mouth shut about all the other thoughts that rush into his brain; like telling Donghyuck how pretty he is himself, or shooting up to kiss him. He stays still.

Donghyuck smiles against the top of his head. “I’m not lying, though. Everyone would be crazy about you if they saw you like this. All soft and cuddly after a good dicking —”

He’s cut off by Renjun hitting his chest. “Fuck  _ you, _ Lee Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck laughs. “You just did.”

And Renjun pinches him to hide his laugh and that’s how it goes: they roll around the bed, both fighting for the upper hand until they’re laughing louder than they moaned earlier. And they kiss, more tongue and teeth and giggles exchanged than lips on lips, and Renjun digs his fingers into Donghyuck’s sides until he writhes.

“Fuck you,” Donghyuck whines breathlessly and slams him back down. “I hate you, Huang.”

They end with Donghyuck on Renjun’s lap and his fingers in his hair. Donghyuck seals his lips over his more softly, almost like a caress, and Renjun lets himself sink into it. He’s never been this scared.

Filming draws to a slow close.

After weeks holed up in this hotel, spreading himself everywhere, Ten is now ushering Renjun to start packing up. Director Kim makes them re-record some scenes he isn’t satisfied with upon reviewing them, and they film some add on scenes with the leftover filming budget. Renjun spends almost all of his time in front of the camera or in the make up room, or in his hotel room trying to fit his clothes back into his suitcase.

Every dream has to come to an end. He tries not to think about it, resting his head against the headboard of his bed while Donghyuck litters kisses across his thighs. He runs his hand through Donghyuck’s hair.

This won’t be his bed anymore soon, and his sheets at home don’t smell like Donghyuck. Nothing at home will remind him of this, he doesn’t have a single piece of Donghyuck to cling to. Not even a sweatshirt or a stupid bracelet to keep the memory, because that would be too personal. That would be a step out of the bubble they built.

This, whatever it was, was never supposed to last. They built it to break.

All that will be left of this is the nicotine addiction he’s built back up, always sneaking a cigarette out of Donghyuck’s hand, and he doesn’t even know why. Everything is better when it comes from Donghyuck.

Donghyuck wraps his arms around Renjun’s middle and kisses him while he slides into him and — this is different. There’s none of the desperation that Renjun’s gotten so used to, it’s not rushed, it’s not rough, they keep their teeth out of the way when they kiss and Donghyuck grinds into him so slowly. Almost tenderly; his eyes never leave Renjun’s and he keeps his hand clasped in his. Renjun almost feels resigned, almost feels like he’s being cherished. He can see it in Donghyuck’s face: it hurts him too. 

After weeks of doing this, their bodies move almost in sync. And yet, they are slower tonight. They take their time. Donghyuck sucks a hickey on Renjun’s rib, hidden enough, as he grinds up into him. Their bodies rock on the bed like waves on a gentle ocean, and Donghyuck holds onto him like he’s scared he will break.

This is what it should feel like, Renjun thinks distantly as he stares up into Donghyuck’s dark eyes. They’re not riddled with lust or arousal, for once, but with something softer, something warmer. This is what it should feel like with someone you love. Warm and safe and slow, and like everything is going to be okay.

Renjun feels like crying when he comes.

Nothing is going to be okay, but he doesn’t say that out loud. He lets Donghyuck fuck him until he comes, too, despite the overstimulation making him squirm, and they shower together right afterwards, for once.

Too tired out to do anything else, they just stand under the warm spray together. Renjun rests his head on Donghyuck’s shoulder, and Donghyuck holds him closer. They don’t say anything — Renjun is too scared that he will say what’s on his mind if he opens his mouth. And he can’t afford that.

His last nights with Donghyuck are supposed to be perfect, not be ruined with feelings they can’t dare to have. So Renjun keeps his mouth shut and wraps his arm around Donghyuck when he kisses him under the shower.

Donghyuck doesn’t say anything, either, but he looks at Renjun with eyes more tender than he’s ever seen them.

They fall asleep with their legs tangled together under Renjun’s blanket, his half packed suitcase in the background and Donghyuck tracing gentle patterns onto Renjun’s back. 

Right before he falls asleep, Renjun hears himself say, “Don’t let me go.”

Donghyuck kisses his nose in response, and the black of the night envelops him before he can stop it.

Ten doesn’t ask about the shadows under his eyes when they get on the plane home. He doesn’t ask any questions, just keeps on blabbering about their schedules at home and seeing Sicheng again and how excited he is to move back into his apartment, he’s missed his cat so much and he hopes Sicheng hasn’t been overfeeding him —

Renjun lets his head tip forward against the window and closes his eyes.

He doesn’t cry, but he doesn’t sleep, either. He didn’t cry last night, after the big goodbye party with everyone on the team when Donghyuck wouldn’t look at him even after several glasses of whisky and Renjun no longer felt like they shared a dirty little secret, no longer felt like they shared  _ anything. _ He didn’t cry when he fell asleep by himself for the first time in weeks, curled up between his cold sheets and his hand opening and closing around the pillow case. He didn’t cry because he told himself that he knew that this was coming, he knew it was going to end like this.

And he doesn’t cry now, even if his eyes itch, as he stares down at the scenery that changes several thousand meters below them. He pulls his knees against his chest and stares out the window for hours. The planes of Australia’s landscape exchanged for the ocean and puffy white clouds, exchanged for Korea’s green fields, exchanged for the grey streets and lights of the city.

Ten doesn’t ask questions, but he keeps a hand on Renjun’s back when they exit the plane in Seoul, he weaves them a secure way through the crowds and rolls Renjun’s suitcase through the exit halls. He rubs the back of Renjun’s neck as they leave the airport and are greeted by Seoul’s noise and the light April breeze.

No one is here to take pictures of him today, no one even looks at him. Renjun is grateful.

Sicheng waits for them in the car. His eyes widen when he sees Renjun’s face, but Ten shuts him up with a glance. They sit suspiciously far apart, and Renjun doesn’t know if Ten does it on purpose. Out of respect?

He never realizes how much he misses Seoul when he goes overseas until he returns. It feels more like home by now than Jilin, even without his parents, and without any of his friends from school. Not that he has many of those left. People forget about you way too quickly when you leave home for another country at fifteen. But he loves Seoul. Even if the black skyscrapers in the blue sky make him feel so small and unimportant, even if his apartment is situated too far up for him to like. He’s free here, if he snaps on a facemask and keeps to Ten and their black van.

Ten presses a kiss to his cheek and squeezes his shoulder before they drop him off outside his apartment complex. Ten and Sicheng live just a few streets down from his place, but he knows that he won’t get to see either of them for the rest of the night. Maybe not for the rest of the week. 

He presses the code into the keypad outside the door and steps into his apartment.

It looks just like he left it in February, and he doesn’t know why he’s so surprised. Maybe because he feels different. Perhaps he expected everything to change with him, but back in Seoul, back home, everything still lies untouched. He and Donghyuck never danced across this floor, never fucked in this bed. Donghyuck has never been here, and only know does Renjun realize how impersonal of a place their hotel rooms were.

How can he think that he knows who Donghyuck is if he’s never seen how he lives?

There’s still some of the fine wine Ten got him for his birthday last year in his fridge, so that’s where he steers first. He downs the glass like a heathen, pouring cold red down his throat like he’s been stumbling through the desert for weeks. Until his vision starts to swim a little, and he stumbles back out of the kitchen.

He drops his bags off in his bedroom, silent and a little dusty, and slides the patio door open. The city is so loud in the early evening, but the noise has never bothered Renjun before. He steps out onto the balcony on his bare feet and lets the breeze of passing trains and airplanes in the distance dry his eyes out, until he doesn’t feel like crying anymore. He presses his hips against the railing and wraps his hands around the cold metal until it chills him down to his bones. The dull pain makes him feel more alive. He tips his head forward. On one of the balconies below him, someone is playing faint music and he feels himself sway to the tune. 

He will be fine. Life goes on. Quiet and dulled by the grey of the city, but it goes on. Renjun can survive this.

All dreams have to come to an end one day. And that’s, after all, all he and Donghyuck ever were.

A dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, if you enjoyed Part One I would be super happy about a kudos, even happier about a comment! 
> 
> ♥


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donghyuck hesitates a second too long, and Renjun can feel the ache splitting in his chest. Of course, he’s not going to say it. He’s not going to let anyone look through the gaps in the fence they built around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Be on the lookout for Part two, it should be up within the next week! :D  
> Me, one day later: Guess who's back
> 
> Yeahh, I couldn't control myself and stayed up until 3am last night reading this big baby over and editing it where I could. I did not end up editing much at all, but I didn't feel like I had to, which is nice! Which means I can share it now! :D
> 
> So here you go!
> 
> POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS: Bad coping mechanisms, some (light) alcohol and nicotine abuse as a coping mechanism, generally themes of depression

Renjun is drunk out of his mind when he gets the text. So drunk that he doesn’t even read it.

Of course he is, he’s spent most of the past week either sleeping or raiding his own alcohol stash, but this is one of the rare times he’s actually _not_ at home being sad and pitiful all by himself.

“Your phone’s been vibrating nonstop for half an hour,” Jaemin tells him with his chin digging into Renjun’s shoulder, like he’s not intending to pull away and let Renjun even reach for his phone. It’s vibrating in his back pocket, of course he noticed, he just hadn’t been paying attention. “Who’s trying to reach you so bad?”

“Probably just Ten,” Renjun says and lets his head flop forward onto the bar. “He’s been on my ass about the premiere gala. Wants me to pick myself up so I won’t look like I look right now in front of hundreds of people.”

Jeno laughs and pokes his side. “Come on, you don’t look that bad. Nothing a good night of sleep can’t fix.”

“You do smell a little, though,” Jaemin adds. “So maybe a shower is in order, too.”

“I hate both of you,” Renjun grumbles under his breath as they burst into laughter on either side of him. They are being so loud it’s a miracle no one else has taken notice of the three of them yet.

Jaemin smacks a kiss to his shoulder, but he can still barely contain his grin. “I don’t think you do, baby.”

He might just be right about that, but Renjun isn’t about to tell him that. Jaemin’s ego is the strongest force in this half of the universe, and Renjun tries to feed into it as little as possible. It’s not always easy, because Jaemin is stupidly attractive and very well aware of the fact, and he comes with a stupidly attractive boyfriend who Renjun has known all his life and they are all too willing to help him out in his misery — it’s hard not to fall under Jaemin’s hands, and every sign of weakness feeds right into his obnoxious self-esteem.

He’s stuck snugly between Jeno and Jaemin at the bar just down the street down from their place, and they are all piss drunk and probably gearing up for what’s to come once they get home.

Jaemin pulls away from him eventually, and Renjun fishes his phone out of his pocket. It is, as expected, several missed calls from Ten, as well as about fifteen messages — mostly one word — that Renjun can barely decipher through the blur in his vision and the hand Jeno sneaks up his thigh.

He sighs and puts the phone away again. He’ll care about that later, when he has the mental space to deal with Ten’s nagging. Right now, he’s only in the mood something entirely else.

Sleeping with Jeno and Jaemin to forget his sorrows has proven to be the most effective method yet. They’re a good team, they’ve been dating for a while and back then, they hovered around Renjun for a little bit. Like they wanted him on them from the start. It never worked out. Renjun couldn’t afford to date one man, let alone two. But whatever kind of attraction Jeno and Jaemin felt towards him then comes in handy now, as he throws himself into them to forget the other pair of hands on him. It’s all in good fun, no strings attached, they talked about it a lot.

Renjun has known Jeno since they were twelve, he shared his bed a few times a few years ago, before Jeno met Jaemin — it’s easy with the both of them. He doesn’t have to worry about anything.

He slides away from the bar and leaves with his head lowered to the ground. Just so no one would see them leave together; he knows Jeno and Jaemin would follow right after him in just a couple of minutes. It’s the kind of sneaking around he used to do with You Know Who, but there’s none of the thrill to it now. It’s just something he has to do so the journalists won’t go wild, and it’s tiring.

He slips past the front door and into the lobby of Jeno and Jaemin’s apartment building. The security guard nods at him — he’s well known here already.

Their apartment is on the fourth floor, much lower than Renjun’s is and he likes this so much better. He types in the code — it’s a nice place. Jeno has been picking up music again, there are note sheets scattered across their living room table and the piano is folded open. Renjun just … stands there, with his arms crossed over his chest and he tries not to shiver despite the warmth of the apartment. There’s bits and pieces of Jeno and Jaemin trailed all over the place: slippers by the door, a shirt thrown over the back of a chair, Jeno’s car keys on the kitchen counter, Jaemin’s favorite blanket on the couch. It’s still crinkled from where they must have been cuddling under it the whole afternoon, Renjun can almost make out the shapes of their bodies. They have pictures on the walls, of each other, of the two of them, of their friends; Renjun spots his own smiling face on some of them.

He’s been here a thousand times in the last few weeks and it’s suffocating every time. The realization of how impersonal his own apartment is compared to his best friends’. This is a home. His own place, with its wiped black marble counters and plain white bedsheets and floor to ceiling windows, is not.

The realization that if he wasn’t who he is, he could have this, too. Someone to share his life and a space like this with. Someone who looks at him like Jeno and Jaemin look at each other. Someone who loves him back.

_Someone._

The door behind him opens and he can’t tell whose arms wrap around him, but he lets them. He’s not here for love or consolation, but to drown out his sorrows. And Jeno and Jaemin are perfectly capable of making him forget everything, just for a while. Just for as long as he’s with them, but relief is relief all the same.

Renjun wakes with Jaemin’s face pressed into the crook of his neck and Jeno’s arm thrown across him — he’s sandwiched between them and he’s _hot._ Wriggling out from between them without waking them is quite the feat, but once he manages, he stumbles across their bedroom floor towards the bathroom. 

Everything in here is too personal, too, so he tries not to look. Just a quick toilet trip and trying not to cringe away at the sight of his own face in the mirror when he washes his hands — he hears the vibration of his phone against the carpeted floor when he steps back out into the bedroom. It’s still in the back pocket of his pants, discarded to the floor in last night’s haste, and he fingers it out of the fabric carefully.

“Ten hyung?” he whispers into the phone, softly pulling the bedroom door shut behind him. The hardwood floor of the hallway is cold under his bare feet, and it’s too dark here for him to see his own hand.

“Oh, thank _god,”_ Ten’s voice sounds on the other end of the line. “Wait, _why_ are you awake?”

Renjun frowns. “I could ask you the same thing! Why are you calling me at four in the morning?”

Ten makes the exact wordless sounds that he always makes when he’s fretting — Renjun hears Sicheng grumble in the background of Ten’s audio string and has to hold back a smile. “I’ve been trying to reach you all night!” Ten says, and only now does Renjun hear the lilt in his voice. Ten is drunk. “Where _were_ you?”

He clears his throat. “I was … out with some old friends.” It’s technically not a lie.

“Oh, really.” Ten doesn’t sound like he believes him, but there’s no time for Renjun to defend himself as he barrels on, “Well, I’m glad you’re getting out of the house again, at least. You’ve been an awful gremlin lately. Anyway, I tried to call you all night because … Oh, oh. Renjunnie, I’m so sorry.”

Renjun frowns harder at the sudden change of tone. “What?”

Ten almost wails, and now Sicheng is grumbling at him quite audibly. “Oh, Junnie, I made a terrible mistake. You see, I was out with some of the filming crew because we were all linking up for the premiere soon … you remember how I invited you to that and you said no? Yeah, that was tonight and, oh, I was so _drunk_ and he was just _there_ and he asked so _nicely_ … really polite boy, I can see why everyone likes him so much ...”

Renjun’s mouth runs a little dry. “Hyung, you didn’t cheat on Sicheng hyung, did you?”

“What?” Ten asks uncomprehendingly. “No, what the hell, Renjun.”

“Well, that’s what you made it sound like!”

“He’s not wrong, babe,” Sicheng contributes with a snort from somewhere near Ten and Renjun hears the unmistakable rustling of sheets as someone slides closer to another person. He closes his eyes.

“Well.” Ten seems to be ashamedly readjusting. “That’s not what happened. Sorry.”

“Well, what happened, then? What’s this about?”

Ten clears his throat. “Ah … you know when we were all out like that … I didn’t mean to talk to him! I tried to avoid him but he kept on coming over to me and I was getting progressively more drunk and he has such a way with words … I’m sure _you_ of all people could tell me about it …”

Warily, Renjun asks, “Hyung? What did you do?”

And in a tiny voice coming from directly behind his teeth, Ten says, “I gave Donghyuck your number.”

The phone almost slips out of Renjun’s hand. He catches it just before it shoots down to its demise on the dark hardwood Jaemin loves so much. “You —”

“I think he texted you, too,” Ten shoots, likely trying to get it all out before Renjun can start yelling at him. “I saw him fiddling with his phone afterwards, and he kept checking it the whole night. I didn’t know if you’d seen it yet, so I’ve been trying to reach you to warn you all night.”

Renjun’s fingers shake around his phone as silence falls between them for a moment.

“Listen, Jun, I’m so sorry, I —”

Renjun hangs up before Ten can say anything else and lets his body sag back against the bedroom door.

_[1:34am] Unknown: Hey._

Renjun stares at the message until his eyes go dry, until he can see the black letters against the white backdrop of the message bubble even with his eyes closed. One word, three letters and a period. Not even a name or a clarification how he got his number, just a _Hey_ and the expectation that Renjun will know who he is.

He certainly does now. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since he first saw the message, right after he hung up on Ten. _Donghyuck has my number._ Closely followed by, _Donghyuck texted me._

Renjun leans forward and presses his hot forehead against the cool of the marble countertop. 

Somewhere in the background of his mind, he can hear Jeno and Jaemin goofing around somewhere in the apartment, probably in some kind of quarrel near the living room. They let him stay for breakfast — of course they did, they always offer, but he usually declines. Not so much for lack of wanting to be around them, as for the fact that there is a nice little diner two streets down from their place that sells absolutely sinful blueberry pancakes before eleven, and they are the only thing that has been keeping Renjun sane these past weeks.

Jaemin makes good pancakes, too, though, with chocolate chips instead of blueberries because he has a sweet tooth and Jeno indulges him in everything, and they are also served with Jaemin’s infamous hot chocolate and tons of whipped cream. One week in this apartment and Renjun would blow up like a balloon.

Damn those pretty boys and their incredibly fast metabolisms.

He takes a long sip of his hot chocolate — way too warm for a June morning, but he pretends he doesn’t care — and picks up his phone again to stare at the message some more.

“Why don’t you just text them back?” Jaemin’s wandered back into the kitchen, fluffy robe and pastel pink slippers, and all, because he is like that and because he and Jeno have some kind of color-coded couples thing going on that Renjun would like to not look too deeply into, thank you. “Just staring at their messages for hours on end won’t do any good, Jun, you gotta make a move, too.”

Renjun certainly does not want to _make a move._ He hasn’t told Jaemin, or Jeno, who texted him — or that anyone texted him at all, in the first place, but it shouldn’t be hard to tell from how he’s been staring at his phone — so they are not informed enough to provide him with any solid advice. If they knew, he’s sure it’d be different.

He didn’t mean to tell Jeno and Jaemin about Donghyuck at all, but it’s hard to hide things from your best friends who you are also sleeping with. Especially when they’re already curious about why you’ve decided to change your mind on not sleeping with them. They like to snoop, and Renjun is only a man, after all. It all spilled out of him only about a week and a half into their arrangement, roughly three weeks after he returned from Australia. He was on his sixth glass of shitty retail wine on his own living room floor when Jaemin decided to break the glass around the topic and Renjun, always true to form, promptly started crying.

Now, he’s sure Jaemin wouldn’t be telling him to text Lee Donghyuck back if he knew that the person on the receiving end of the message was … well, Lee Donghyuck.

Renjun does it, anyway, of course. Because he is Huang Renjun and this is Lee Donghyuck — the man he’s been dreaming about for almost two months now, almost longer than their affair lasted in the first place. Because that’s what it was. An affair. A dream, Renjun tells himself again when he’s sitting on his balcony that night with his ankles dangling over the handrail and an unlit cigarette between his lips — he’s been trying to quit again.

Fuck dreams, he thinks, and hits send. He lights the cigarette anyway.

_[9:22pm] Renjun: Hey._

Texting Lee Donghyuck is … way too fucking easy. Talking to him again is. It always has been, he’s a natural at conversation and he pulls Renjun along easily. Renjun knows he shouldn’t — shouldn’t fall for this, shouldn’t talk to him again, shouldn’t let himself be drawn in and wrapped around Lee Donghyuck’s finger again.

If only it wasn’t so easy to do so, he’s sure he wouldn’t.

Unfortunately, it is, because he and Donghyuck clicked naturally from the first evening in the hotel bar, and talking to him has always been easy and fun. He makes Renjun laugh into the dark quiet of his apartment, and he hasn’t felt this giddy since he returned to Seoul. Just like it was two months ago, it’s addicting.

Their conversations are innocent enough. _How have you been doing,_ to which Renjun replies with a complete lie, of course, and _We’ll see each other at the premiere, right? Are you going to be there for the party after?_

They take it further than that, they talk about life back home, life off set. Donghyuck lives in Gangnam, because of course he does, on his own safe for his cat and his cousin — who doesn’t actually live with him, but likes to drop by unannounced like he does. He lives almost exclusively on ramen when his manager lets him off the diet hook once filming is over, and he’s in love with Renjun’s mini wine collection, most of which are gifts he got for birthdays and movie premieres and other fancy events that rich people gift expensive wine at.

Renjun refrains from telling him that quite a few of the bottle are empty, now.

He sends Renjun a picture of his bedroom window view one night, and Renjun finds himself frantically comparing it to his own, until he realizes himself and sinks into bed with a sigh. He doesn’t even live in Gangnam.

Jeno and Jaemin are not impressed when they find out about it. Renjun guesses the way he keeps checking his phone and hacks his thumbs into the screen is hard to miss, as well as the implications that come with it. So it’s only a matter of time until Jaemin leans over to peer at his screen and gasps out loud, _“Donghyuck?”_

Renjun tries to explain, but they stare back at him with blank expressions.

“I don’t think we need to remind you of how it was when you came back,” Jeno deadpans. His face is unusually frowny, and Renjun feels small under his gaze. “How _you_ were. Because of him.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Renjun tries. “Even if he wanted to, it’s not —”

“He clearly has the means to, now,” Jaemin cuts him off. “‘He can’t contact me because of his agency, blah, blah.’ But now two months later he suddenly can? Like it’s no problem?” He shakes his head and leans back into the couch. “I’m sorry, Jun, but if he really felt about you like you want him to, he wouldn’t have gone MIA in your life in the first place. The guy is just horny and you’re probably the best lay he’s had in a while.”

 _“Jaemin,”_ Jeno scolds when he sees the face Renjun pulls at that. “Don’t just say that.”

That doesn’t exactly give Renjun the reassurance he was looking for — that Jeno doesn’t also think that way; it sure sounds like he does, but that he just doesn’t want to hurt Renjun’s feelings — either, so he just says, “It’s okay,” even though it isn’t, really. It hurts in places where it shouldn't. His heart, for example.

Jaemin sighs in the exact same moment Renjun’s phone on the couch table between them lights up again. “Loverboy’s calling,” he snaps, before he gets up and vanishes into the kitchen.

“Don’t mind him.” Jeno’s eyes are big and soft when he turns back around to look at Renjun. “He’s not good at these kinds of things. Very territorial, it’s the Leo.”

Renjun smiles and picks at the carpet beneath him. “I didn’t know you believe in astrology.”

“I don’t normally, but I live with this man. It gets hard to ignore.”

Renjun laughs, but he tries to keep it quiet as to not upset Jaemin — who is undoubtedly listening to them from the kitchen — even more. Having Na Jaemin be mad at you isn’t in any way fun.

Jeno gets up, too — probably to look after his upset boyfriend, which is usually Renjun’s cue to leave as fast as he can, because Jaemin’s fight or flight response switch is always on _fight,_ and it can get real ugly when he and Jeno fight — and leans down to press a shy kiss to Renjun’s cheek. He comes back up with his nose wrinkled. “You need to stop smoking,” he says. “Everytime we kiss I feel like I’m licking an ashtray.”

A laugh bursts past Renjun’s lips, and Jaemin pokes his head back out of the kitchen door.

“You guys are kissing without me?”

The day of the premiere and the accompanying gala strides closer without mercy. Renjun spends most of his days holed up in his apartment, ignoring Ten’s calls and texting Donghyuck and telling himself that soon, after this movie is over and done with, he will have to return to his regular life.

Almost two months of sulking over a relationship he knew he couldn’t have before it even started, and the gala will probably be the last time he will see Donghyuck for a long time. His agency is already looking to make him audition for a new movie, Ten told him in one of the rare calls that Renjun did pick up, and he will have to close this chapter of his life if he doesn’t want his career to come to a tragic end before the end of the year.

Donghyuck and the little crack in Renjun’s heart that came with him will be sealed and done. A box under his bed that he will dig up again in a few years and fondly dwell on the memories of a younger Renjun.

This is not the greatest heartbreak of his life, and he refuses to think it is.

So he gets up three days before the premiere and turns his phone off, takes a long shower and combs his hair. He chucks on his most appropriate jacket and tells his driver to drop him off in front of a building two streets down.

“Well, look who decided to show.” Sicheng smiles at him when he opens the door for him. He’s still in his cream colored sleep shirt and his hair is sticking up at the side of his head. “And you actually look presentable! Ten is gonna be out of his mind. When he wakes up.”

Which he does relatively soon, despite the early hour. As if he can smell Renjun’s presence, he creeps out of the bedroom with squinty eyes and wrapped in a big robe about half an hour after Renjun’s settled onto the couch with Sicheng and a cup of tea. He stares at Renjun over the brim of his glasses, sitting crooked on his face.

“You,” he says, slowly, like he’s really trying to let the poison seep into Renjun’s bones. “You’re here.”

Renjun shrugs and sips on his tea. “It’s only three days until the premiere. I'm sure you must’ve expected me to show up at _some_ point anytime now.”

“At this point I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d skipped the whole gala altogether,” Ten grumbles. He pads into the kitchen with a “Fucking gremlin ass,” mumbled under his breath, and Renjun snorts.

Despite the insults, Ten whips up a rather impressive breakfast and forces Renjun to eat two whole servings to “get some life back into those cheeks” before he’s allowed to do anything else. Renjun does feel considerably better, if a little sick and stuffed, with some good meat and broth in his system. 

The rest of the day is routine: Ten hauls him around town to get him up to par for the premiere. He gets his hair cut, his eyebrows done where they were spiralling out of control, every single inch of his body that isn’t his head waxed until he shines like a newborn baby. Ten treats him to more good food for both lunch and dinner. His stylists are already preparing his outfits, and it wouldn’t look too good if they were too big for him. 

Clothes are not something they have to worry about today, but getting Renjun to look like a celebrity again, rather than a sad slump, definitely is. 

Ten forces him to maintain a healthy sleep schedule, at least for the three nights until the premiere, to the point where he has to spend the second night at Ten’s place so he can make sure he’s not staying up.

It does Renjun good, breathing some life back into his corpse of a body. Feeding it with actual food instead of over salted instant ramen and alcohol, and letting it rest when it needs to. He tries to smoke less, too, but going on a full withdrawal is not exactly recommendable when he has to be presentable in three days. 

The magic of what treating your body right for three days can do to you: on the morning of the premiere, Renjun feels more rested than he has in the last two months, and he gets out of bed easily. For the first time since he left for Australia, he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and goes on one of his morning runs.

It’s freeing. Not only the physical exertion that makes his body ache in all the good ways, but also the city in the morning, the air in his lungs as he heaves and jogs along the row of storefronts. No one stops to stare or talk to him even if they might recognize him — with his movie premiering tonight, his face smiles back at him from billboards all over the city. No one even tries to sneak pictures, as far as he can see, because he’s obviously a man on a mission and he’s sweaty and gross and probably looks a little like he’s dying inside — but he feels free.

He slows to a halt in front of the kiosk that he saw that magazine at, all those months ago, and plugs his headphones out of his ears. He waves at the clerk from outside, and smiles when he waves back.

Lee Donghyuck reveals he has never been in a relationship. Renjun chuckles to himself as his eyes browse over the faces of all the other irrelevant celebrities on those magazine covers. At least now he knows why.

He puts his headphones back in and continues on his run.

“Okay, I know this is a lot for you, but please just — try and stay calm, all right?” Ten tries for nice and consoling manager, his hand squeezing Renjun’s shoulder, but it’s not really working.

No amount of texting, of telling himself that he’ll be alright — that it’s just one night that he has to spend in Donghyuck’s general vicinity, and that he can probably avoid him if he tries hard enough — of chuckling in front of kiosks on his morning run could’ve prepared him for how nervous he was actually going to be.

He hasn’t seen Donghyuck since his last night in Australia. The big goodbye party when Donghyuck wouldn’t even look at him all night and Renjun went to bed in his empty hotel room sad and alone. 

He’s talked to him only via text, and only for the last two weeks. He hasn’t seen his face or heard his voice since that night, he never even got a proper goodbye. And now, sitting in the make up room with his hair half gelled up and a hint of glitter smudged around his eyes, he’s flipping out a little.

“Renjun, you’ll be _fine,_ ” Ten tries again. He’s starting to sound a little desperate. “It’s just one night.”

One night of trying not to fall into the mess that is Lee Donghyuck. One night of composing himself and holding it all together for the cameras, and then he can go cry about it for a week in the safety of his apartment.

He gives Ten a firm nod.

Donghyuck arrived before him, has already strutted the red carpet in all his glitz and glamour when Renjun’s car pulls up in front of the venue. Ten squeezes his hand one last time, and then he’s out.

Cameras flash white, directly in his face and they leave him blinded for a moment, but he keeps his head up. He sets one foot in front of the other, securely, with his shoulders squared and his chin tilted just enough to look composed but not arrogant. He stops in front of the ad wall to pose for their pictures. He smiles. He pushes his hip out a little in the way the cameras like. He does it all, just like Ten would want him to. This is easy.

The hall that the festivities after the movie will happen in is decked out only in the most exquisite: the thick red carpet under his feet, flower arrangements along the walls and a golden glow hangs over the whole ambience. Long dresses and suits; faux pelts and glittering jewelry; someone is already handing out champagne flutes.

Someone else whisks him away for a quick interview, and he does his best to smile pleasantly and dig deep into his reservoir of noncommittal interview answers that he’s accumulated over the years, before he moves on.

The harder part about this is to sit in the dark theatre for two hours and watch his own face flimmer over the big screen. His own face — and Lee Donghyuck’s. He has to hold himself back from flinching every time he appears, every time his voice sounds through the big hall. Does on-screen Donghyuck have to laugh the exact same was as he does off camera? Does he have to look the same, talk the same, smile the same? He smiles at everyone like he used to smile at Renjun, and during the few times their characters share the screen, even talk to each other, Renjun actually feels like crying. What if it was just another act, another role, after all?

He curls his fingers into the armrest of his seat and presses his eyes firmly shut.

When the movie’s over, he must’ve fallen asleep for a little while, at least, because he doesn’t remember time passing but the credits are rolling and people around him are getting up. What a waste.

The girl next to him nudges him with her elbow, and he recognizes her smile from set. He smiles back and bows his head a little. “You had a lot of fun, huh?” she asks, though, and before he can flinch at the words her smile gets even broader, and she adds, “Falling asleep halfway through your own movie.”

A relieved laugh pushes past Renjun’s lips. “Oh, yes. I’m a bit tired, to be honest. Don’t tell anyone?”

She shakes her head and pushes a finger to her lips. “My lips are sealed. I get you, premiere season is always so stressful, I’ve hardly gotten any sleep over the last few weeks. I’m running on five shots of Espresso.”

Renjun laughs and refrains from telling her that he’s been sleeping well, actually. That he fell asleep more as a coping mechanism and a form of escapism, to not be forced to stare at the face of his three-month fling for two hours until his heart tries to top itself in his chest. They walk out of the theatre together, back out into the hall for the after festivities, and Renjun comes up from his bow to her to stare right at Donghyuck.

He’s just in his line of sight, of course he is, and he looks … beyond breathtaking.

It’s the first time Renjun sees him tonight, and his stylists have clearly outdone themselves for this one. He’s glowing, almost glittering in the golden light that almost seems to fall on him in just the right angle, a chain dangling from his earring, so long it almost touches his exposed collarbone. He’s talking to someone at one of the standing tables and he laughs and brushes his hair out of his face in such an eerily familiar gesture —

The realization comes over Renjun slowly. It’s less like a freight truck hitting him at maximum speed, and more like a tingling creeping through his veins throughout the entire evening, every time he sees Donghyuck talk to someone, until it reaches his brain and he doesn’t know how it took him this long to realize.

Donghyuck is flirting with everyone he meets here tonight — of course he is. He looks at them like he used to look at Renjun, the twinkle in his eyes and the hand through his hair. That’s who he is, after all. The nation’s flirt.

They’re only about two hours into the after event — two hours of Renjun skirting around the drinks table with Ten’s eyes on the back of his neck as a silent warning to not embarrass himself tonight — when Donghyuck looks back up at him over the rim of his champagne glass. Renjun turns away and downs the rest of his drink.

He can’t do this, he decides in that moment. His feet carry him along the dark wood panelled wall, where the crowd is less thick and the petals of the dark red roses brush over his shoulder — and he decides he can’t stand around anymore and tolerate the friendly conversation and the live band playing softly in the background and the fake, lipsticked smiles and Donghyuck just across the room from him, like fresh out of one of his magazine shoots. Renjun can’t stand by the table with the drinks and watch as the girl from earlier grabs her husband’s hand with a smile and realize just how _lonely_ he is in a room full of people.

He rushes down the long stairs outside the venue, like Cinderella fleeing the ball, and jumps into one of the waiting taxis on the curb before Ten can catch up to him and ask him to stay.

He doesn’t care. Tomorrow, magazine covers will be full of his face and how he ran from the afterparty of his own movie’s premiere, maybe someone even snuck a picture of him striding out, he wasn’t paying attention. He doesn’t care. He tells the driver his address and blinks back the burn in his eyes.

Renjun has never craved romance. It didn’t pain him to turn Jeno and Jaemin down, back then, even though they were hot and he liked them, and he knew the sex was good. He let them down gently, but not for his own sake. It didn’t hurt because he never wanted them that way in the first place. He never wanted anyone like that.

All his life, he was perfectly content being alone. Well, not _alone._ He did enjoy the company of other people, he shared his bed quite a lot, with men and women alike. He even liked the intimacy that went beyond just sex, kisses and cute little dinner dates and holding hands on the way home and sunday morning breakfast in his kitchen. He had a boyfriend, once, when he was twenty, and it was nice. It ended peacefully after a few months.

He just never craved it, he never dreamed about staying with anyone for longer than a few months, maximum. And none of the flings and mini relationships he’s had lasted longer than that, anyway.

It was always fine. He liked his apartment empty, anyway. He’s quite fond of having his peace and quiet.

Except now, he stumbles into the darkness of his apartment and his legs are so weak that he has to grip the kitchen counter to steady himself, and he chokes on his own tears. His chest is hollow with how _lonely_ he is.

He’s never felt like this before, and he can’t believe that it has to be _Lee Donghyuck_ who does this to him. 

The one person who barged into his life the same way that so many other people have, and yet he managed to mess up so much more. Renjun can’t say why. He can’t say why Donghyuck is different, why he makes his heart stutter the way he does, or why Renjun, who’s always been alone, suddenly feels _lonely_ without him.

Ten tries to call him twice, but Renjun doesn’t pick up. He stretches his legs long over the beige tiles of his kitchen floor and waits until Ten gives up.

The silence of the apartment weighs heavier on him than it ever has before.

His phone buzzes again, and he checks it out of instinct. He’s half ready to text Ten to leave him the fuck alone, he’s not in the mood to get yelled at tonight, sorry, when he reads the message that actually blinks at him.

_Donghyuck: Hey_

And in a moment of blind desperation, blinking back his tears, Renjun texts him right back.

_Renjun: Hey yourself_

There’s a pause, and Renjun is almost ready to put his phone back down when the little bubble that indicates Donghyuck is typing pops back up. His pulse is beating in his throat.

_Donghyuck: Are you okay? I saw you leave._

_Renjun: I’m okay, just tired. Fell asleep during the movie._

Better than admitting that he’s sitting sprawled out on his kitchen floor with tears swimming in his eyes. 

If Donghyuck has any inkling that he might be lying, he doesn’t say anything about it, he doesn’t push him. Instead, he takes another few minutes, and his next message reads a tentative, _You looked great tonight._

Renjun almost snorts — he hasn’t taken anything off, but the glitter around his eyes is now undoubtedly smudged down across his cheekbones, his hair is matted to the back of his head where he pressed it against the seat of the car, and the sleeves of his shirt crumpled in the center of the fists he balled in his lap.

 _Says you, of all people,_ he texts back, because it’s true. Donghyuck probably still looks as much like a young god as he did an hour ago, with his hair swept out of his face and his dangling jewelry. If Renjun was still the man he was two months ago, if they were still in Australia and if they were still as tightly intertwined as back then, he would’ve pulled him away from the crowds. They would’ve met somewhere private, and Renjun’s nerves would’ve been alight with excitement as he would’ve gone down on Donghyuck like there was no tomorrow. 

_Donghyuck: I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk tonight._

Another moment passes, Renjun doesn’t really know what to say to that. Is he sorry?

_Donghyuck: I really miss you._

Renjun feels so much like crying the rest of the room around him starts to feel surreal. It’s not even that Donghyuck has a way with words — this is the most simple thing he could’ve said — but it’s that it’s him and Renjun has been aching for him for so long and now he aches because he’s lonely and Donghyuck is _right there._

So he doesn’t care when Donghyuck continues with, _You looked_ really _hot tonight_ , and makes it so abundantly clear that he wanted to get into Renjun’s pants all night. He doesn’t care because, shit, he wanted the same thing. He tries not to pay attention to how Donghyuck might actually mean _I miss fucking you_ instead of _I miss your company,_ and it’s easy to do so with the image of Donghyuck springing to the forefront of his mind.

Perhaps Jaemin is right and Donghyuck is only talking to him again because he’s horny and lonely, but, for the time being, Renjun finds that he’s okay with that. He can do that.

 _I’m kind of drunk,_ Donghyuck continues, and Renjun finds his eyes are glued to the screen, the tiny window of light in his dark kitchen, to a world he can’t ever live in. _And I really want to fuck you._

Renjun’s hands shake when he types back, _Yeah?_

He promised himself he wouldn’t fall for this. He promised _Jaemin_ that he wouldn’t. But it’s so easy to let his mind run wild on their memories, to feel Donghyuck’s hands on him again and remember the way they kissed and how their bodies fit together in every place that their personalities clashed.

 _Not just today, either._ Renjun closes his eyes, and opens them just in time for the next message. _I think about you every fucking day. You’re never not on my mind. You’re so fucking hot and. Fuck, Renjun._

Renjun frowned down at his phone, despite the tingling in his cheeks. _Are you trying to sext me?_

He can almost see the way Donghyuck would blush at being called out in front of his inner eye. He always grew red in the exact same way, from the tips of his ears down to the apples of his cheeks until he was burning and hitting at Renjun’s chest with a whine. And Renjun would kiss him, more smile and laughter than anything else, but Donghyuck would melt right into it. Would laugh back against him until they were both shaking.

All he sends back is a, _Maybe …,_ and Renjun shakes his head. Not happening.

He presses the call button before he can think about it twice.

“Renjun,” Donghyuck rasps into his ear, not even giving him a chance to speak. There’s voices around him, and music, he must still be at the venue, but it sounds like he’s moving. His breath comes out in pants and he quickly gets rid of someone who stops him to talk, and then a door falls shut and with it, the noise. “Fuck.”

“You nasty boy,” Renjun tuts as a smile sneaks onto his face. “Texting me dirty things in a room full of people.”

His words make Donghyuck whine in embarrassment. “Shut up,” he hisses, but Renjun can hear the hitch in his voice. “You drive me fucking nuts. I hate you. I _hate_ you.”

“Mhm.” Renjun smacks his lips. “I’m sure you do. That’s why you told me you think about me every day.”

The thought does drive him a little wild. To think that Donghyuck thinks about him to the point it drives him mad, that he’s been imagining him, maybe, in the same way Renjun has been imagining him. That he’s not the only insane one between the two of them, that Donghyuck is just as desperate.

Donghyuck turns on the tab in the bathroom he’s hiding in to mask the sound of his voice as he growls low into Renjun’s ear: “That wasn’t a lie, though. I do think about you every day.”

“Every day?” Renjun parrots, just to tease. He lets the tips of his fingers trail up his own thigh, dancing.

Donghyuck hums on the other end of the line. “Every damn day. Every single time I touch myself I can’t get you out of my head. You’re so — Fuck, I miss you.”

Renjun refrains from asking the question, instead he just laughs. Donghyuck’s words send sparks down his spine, and he has to pull his legs against his chest a little to alleviate the pressure building up in his groin. “I miss you, too,” he whispers back. “I think about you, too.” Not just in the sexual ways, but Donghyuck doesn’t need to know that. “‘m really missing the bathroom quickies right now, bet that’s what you’re thinking about.”

Donghyuck straight up moans into the line. “Holy fuck. Yes.”

Renjun is thinking about it too — all the times they disappeared into the bathroom on set, the one time in the middle of a restaurant with the rest of the crew when Donghyuck looked so delicious he couldn’t resist. He pushed him against the tiled wall and sucked him off until he himself came down his own pants like a teenage boy.

It was insanity, all of their affair, and now Donghyuck is hiding in the bathroom to talk about dirty things to him on the phone and Renjun can feel the heat in his thighs creeping up.

“We can still have that, now.” He doesn’t like how breathless he sounds. “Even if I’m not there.”

“Want you to be there, though,” Donghyuck pants. He sounds whiny again and really, this is Renjun’s favorite version of him. It’s not submission, it’s a game that Renjun knows they are both in tune with. A game of who gets to be on top, who gets to take control and Donghyuck likes to lull Renjun into a sense of security, to make him feel superior for a while before he snaps back into it and slams whatever dominance Renjun builds over him into the ground. It’s a game of push and pull, cat and mouse where they are both the cat and the mouse. Renjun enjoys the chase as much as the result, no matter what side of the equation he lands on.

“I’m sure you do,” he purrs into the phone. “What’d you wanna do?”

Donghyuck snorts, but he sounds affected when he says, “Bend you right over the sink. What else?”

“You’d like that, huh.” Renjun tries not to laugh, but a tiny giggle bursts past his lips. This is all a little ridiculous, but god, he’s starting to get a little hot. “What if I wouldn’t let you?”

“You putting up a fight?” Donghyuck asks, and Renjun has a feeling that whatever submission he was exhibiting minutes ago might be gone again already. It doesn’t matter, though, because it’s even more fun like this, head to head. “As if I don’t know how much you want me. How much you wish I was with you right now.”

Renjun clamps his mouth shut when he presses the heel of his palm into the growing bulge in his pants. Can’t let himself slip up, and yet his voice comes out strained when he says, “Do you, now?”

“Mhm.” He can hear Donghyuck smack his lips together, he can hear the smirk in his voice when he continues, “I do. I know you’re wishing that you never left this place, that I would’ve pulled you away into this tiny bathroom in front of everyone and pressed your precious little head against the mirror until you forget your own name and scream loud enough for everyone to hear. Wouldn’t you have liked that, babe?”

Renjun loses the fight with his facial muscles, and lets a tiny whimper fall from his lips, just as he presses down. Goddamnit. Donghyuck laughs at him, the teasing edge not yet gone.

“Fuck you, Lee,” Renjun presses out between his clenched teeth. “Stop being a menace.”

Donghyuck absolutely does not stop. “Oh, aren’t you so desperate?” he teases, and hell, Renjun wishes he could say that Donghyuck doesn’t have that kind of effect on him anymore — that he never had — but his hips buck up into the press of his own hand, unyielding, and he has to press his lips shut quite tightly to stop another sound from escaping. “You want to be touched so badly, don’t you, babe? Don’t want to get off on rutting your own hand, or whatever it is you’re doing right now. Even my hand would be better, wouldn’t it be?”

It’s fire under his skin and the image of Donghyuck still seared into his memory, in all the shameless, depraved positions they’ve been in together. Donghyuck’s hands are always so warm, so much bigger than Renjun’s, and Renjun would take them over his own any day. Especially if it entailed getting to sleep with him again.

Embarrassment clouds his vision a little when he moans again, but he blinks past it. _This is happening,_ he tells himself, _I’m having phone sex with Lee Donghyuck,_ so, as he palms his own dick through the fabric of the tight pants his stylists shoved him into, he asks, “Aren’t you gonna touch yourself?”

Donghyuck hums. “I already am, baby.”

The admission sends Renjun’s hips bucking against his will again, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can take the restriction around his hips. His breaths are starting to come shorter. “You are?”

“Mhmm.” Donghyuck is starting to sound affected, too, when he adds a little breathlessly, “Thinking about you.”

It’s all a little much, so Renjun decides to take care of the easiest solved problem first. He puts Donghyuck on speaker — not like he has to be quiet in his empty apartment — and rests his phone on the tiles, then makes work of his pants and shoves them down his legs until he is, finally, freed from the tight fabric. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks when he picks the phone back up mere seconds later.

“I thought I remembered telling you in quite vivid detail.”

Renjun laughs, and rests his hand on his thigh. “And you think I would let you do that?”

“Please,” Donghyuck laughs. “You like being fucked way too much.”

“And you know that why, exactly?”

Donghyuck hums again, and this is exactly the kind of game they like. This push and pull, teasing until one of them breaks. Renjun lets his hand wander back to his crotch right as Donghyuck says, “Because I’ve taken you apart often enough. You’re so proud and uptight, but I think you’re the sexiest when you sob for dick.”

Heat spreads into Renjun’s cheeks so fast it leaves him dizzy, and he presses a hand over his mouth.

“Oh, you like when I tell you dirty things?” The teasing lilt in Donghyuck’s voice drives Renjun up the walls, and he reaches out to palm his cock again. “You like when I tell you how pretty you are when you enjoy yourself getting fucked and bent into the most scandalous positions?”

Renjun gasps at the sparks shooting up his spine, and he has to admit defeat this time around. Donghyuck is driving him insane, and he’s too far gone now to fight back anymore. Still, he tries for a, “No, I hate you.”

But Donghyuck only laughs at him. “I don’t think you do. You love being like this, don’t you? Completely at my mercy. I could tell you to do anything, and you would.” His voice is dripping with the teasing, and Renjun hates him. But he’s so turned _on._ “You can tell yourself that you prefer being on top all you want, _Junjun,_ but I know how much you enjoy a good dicking. You would do anything for it, wouldn’t you, baby?”

There’s a breathless edge to Donghyuck’s voice, at least. He’s not as unaffected as he pretends to be, and Renjun tries to imagine him leaned against the bathroom wall with a hand shoved down his pants.

“Shut the fuck up,” he grits out. 

Donghyuck giggles, almost coy. “You say that as if I don’t know that you’re about to come from me telling you a few dirty things about yourself. Have you even taken off your pants, or are you about to come in them?”

Out of sheer protest, Renjun finally pushes his underwear down, too, and wraps a hand around his cock. “‘m not,” he grumbles, and Donghyuck laughs at him again.

“Well then, baby,” Donghyuck says in the hair-twirling voice he only uses when he wants something. “Why don’t you finish yourself off while you tell me exactly what you’re thinking about? Deal?”

Renjun’s breath hitches as he starts to stroke himself. What _is_ he thinking about? “I’d want you to fuck me,” he manages out, and before Donghyuck can cut him off with a Duh or something of the sort, he barrels on, “I’d — I’d like that. The thing you want to do. Bend me over the sink.” Every word pains him. “You know I like when you ...”

“When I what?” Donghyuck presses when he trails off. “Come on. What do you like, baby?”

 _I like when you call me that._ But he doesn’t say that, he’s yet to let slip how much the nicknames — baby, even fucking _Junjun_ — how much it all affects him. The subtle affection of it all being what really drives him insane, this taste of what he can’t have and what he knows Donghyuck will never be able to give him. Instead he says, “You know I like when you do that. H-hold me down. The whole shebang.”

“Mhm. I do know, but it’s so much nicer when you say it, isn’t it? How much you like being _handled.”_

Renjun’s hand squeezes tighter around his cock, and he presses his eyes shut. The pleasure paired with the weird shade of humiliation settling in his chest — it brings him oh so close to the edge. Donghyuck adds to both of it: the humiliation with his words, and the pleasure with his voice, because Renjun has been dreaming about him.

“I missed this,” he gasps out, hand around his dick speeding up. “I’ve been thinking about you, too. Every single time. Haven’t been able to get off as well as I used to.”

 _“Fuck,_ Renjun.” Donghyuck’s voice drops a dangerous octave. “Fuck. You’re so … you drive me absolutely insane, what the fuck. You have no idea what you do to me, you looked so hot tonight I couldn’t even look at you, I don’t know what I would’ve done. You make me go nuts.”

Renjun’s hips buck up again, chasing relief in his own hand. “Hyuck, I — I’m gonna —”

“Yes, yes,” Donghyuck pants. “Yes, come. Come on, do it, I’m. I’m — too —”

The breathless catch in Donghyuck’s voice, how affected he sounds simply from thinking about Renjun — it sends Renjun flying over the edge violently. His visions whites out and he hears his own high pitched moan echo off the kitchen walls. His hand stays wrapped around his cock, pumping himself through it.

He comes to with a weak, _“Hyuckie,”_ and is met with pants on the other side of the line.

“Fuck, that was —” Donghyuck cuts himself off with an almost shy laugh. “Holy fuck.”

“Yeah,” Renjun says. He wipes under his eye with his knuckle and he isn’t all that surprised when it comes away wet, though he can’t remember when he started. He smiles into the dark kitchen. “Holy fuck.”

The slurping sound of the straw sounds quite audibly in the near silent cafe, the jolly tune playing in the background not enough to drown it out. Two girls at the table next to them look over with their foreheads creased by frowns, and Renjun kicks Jaemin’s leg under the table.

“Can you be a little less obnoxious? There are people here.”

“Hmm.” Jaemin seems to ponder, tapping his chin while giving Renjun those annoying doll eyes. He chews on his boba straw. “Only when you start being a little less of a dumbass.”

Renjun tries to kick him again, but he pulls his leg away without even flinching. He invited Jaemin out to get boba with him because he’s in dire need for a reality check and the opinion of someone who has proven to not be in favor of sugarcoating — and who’s there better to ask than Na Jaemin? Ten would’ve grilled him alive, and Sicheng probably would’ve just blankly stared at him because he isn’t that good at relationships that aren’t his own, but Jaemin — Jaemin knows what’s up. Jaemin knows how to handle things, and he also knows _Renjun._

In retrospect, though, Jaemin is also kind of an asshole, and Renjun maybe should’ve seen this coming.

He still rubs his wrist, wounded, and shoots Jaemin a pouty look. “You’re a lot nicer with your boyfriend around,” he notes, and takes a sip of his own drink.

Jaemin shrugs. “Maybe so. He keeps me in check, something about a steady Taurus taming a wild Leo’s fire.” He twirls his straw around in his cup. “But I don’t think you invited me out to be nice to you, anyway.”

“I invited you out so you’d give me a reality check.”

“Okay, so.” Jaemin stares him hard in the eyes. “The reality check is you’re a fucking dumbass, and you need to stop talking to him immediately before you get even deeper into shit. For your own sake, seriously, just drop him. One man is not worth letting your heart be torn to pieces twice. I don’t know why this is even up for debate.”

Renjun doesn’t say anything for a little while. His gaze sweeps down to the cup in his hands.

“Renjun.” Jaemin’s voice goes softer, but he still doesn’t reach out for him. Renjun can’t tell if it’s because they’re in public, or if Jaemin feels it too. This weird detachment between them, as if Renjun has fallen back out of the rhythm that three of them had started between them. As if Renjun is falling into those unreachable places again, where no one can touch him except for the thought of Donghyuck. Just like it was right after he came back.

“Renjun,” Jaemin tries again, and Renjun sets his eyes on his face. “You know that I care about you, right?” He doesn’t wait for Renjun to reply. “Me and Jeno both. We care about you. In more ways than you probably think, and we could tell how much it hurt you. No matter if it was his fault or not, he hurt you. And he’s going to do it again, whether he wants to or not. Like you said, it’s out of his control. So you should be smart enough to not fall back into something that you know isn’t gonna last, when you know you won’t be able to stand it ending.”

Renjun’s gaze flutters back down, and he _knows_ Jaemin is right. He knew it before, but hearing it confirmed out of his friend’s mouth still feels different. His hands cramp into tiny fists. 

“I hardly think that the dick is _that_ good.”

 _“Jaemin,”_ Renjun gasps, but it makes both of them laugh. 

After a moment though, Jaemin gets serious again, and he finally, _finally,_ reaches out to squeeze Renjun’s hand. He smiles. 

“Is all the temporary happiness really worth the lasting pain?”

When Renjun gets the text with an address, and another picture of the night sky attached, he decides that, yes, it is. And he doesn’t know why, but he slips into his shoes and stuffs his wallet into his pocket and jumps down the stairs before he can stop himself. He doesn’t take the van, doesn’t even call his driver and he tries to be quiet in the hallway when he passes his apartment door — if Ten finds out about this, he’s dead.

Gangnam is quite a ways away from his apartment without a car, and he tries to evade the stares he gets on the subway. The ad with his face right next to the door isn’t really helping.

It’s a nice place, though, once he finally gets there. A rather quiet street for a district like Gangnam, with tall apartment complexes and thick black vans like the one he’s driven around in, too, parked in the driveways. Most of the curtains are drawn shut, the only people he sees are a young couple smoking on their balcony.

A trendy district for trendy people. Renjun would hate to live here.

Even out in the busier streets, between the flashy signs and the colorful buildings and his face smiling back at him from every corner. The fancy stores and the fancy people with their perfect fashion and the need to prove to everyone how rich and trendy you are because you can afford to live in Seoul’s center of youth. Living here means not only being able to afford the rent, but also the trend obligations that come with this area.

Renjun likes his side of the city — dull and grey as it is — a lot better than this.

Donghyuck’s place is nice, though. Of course it is, it has to be. People will know that he lives here, whether he wants them to or not, so he has to put some effort into keeping up a trendy reputation, even in his home.

The car parked in his apartment’s spot is fancy, even though Renjun knows for a fact that Donghyuck can’t drive. It’s a status symbol, more than anything, and he has people to drive him around. Just like Renjun does. It’s not like he can judge him for that. It’s a celebrity thing, he supposes, and pushes the doorbell button.

“Hello?” Donghyuck’s staticky voice comes through the speaker a minute later.

“Hi. It’s me. Renjun.”

“Ah, yes.” Donghyuck sounds a little less excited than Renjun would’ve maybe expected him to. “Come on up.”

The door buzzes and Renjun pushes it open. The lobby is nice and cool, polished black marble floor and white walls, and the security guard barely spares him a glance. Renjun has no idea if any other celebrities live here, but if Donghyuck alone does, then there are probably a lot of privacy obligations that come with the security position.

Renjun gets into the elevator, also polished marble, and lets it take him up to the floor Donghyuck texted him. There are multiple buttons missing in the row of floors, and the hallway he lands in only has one door, a tiny modern art style table with a succulent on it and a sign next to the polished wooden door. _Lee._

He knocks, and the door flies open not a moment later.

Much opposed to the lack of enthusiasm over the speaker, Donghyuck pulls Renjun into the apartment by his grip on Renjun’s sleeve without so much as a hello. Renjun lets him — not like he has much of a choice, really. 

They fall in through the door, they end up in a small tangle of feet and not really knowing where to go or where to put their limbs. But then Donghyuck’s face is right in front of his, and a smile spreads on his cheeks. Renjun feels his own grow, too, when Donghyuck leans closer, until their noses almost touch, and whispers, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Renjun bumps his nose against Donghyuck’s, and their smiles match up so big their teeth almost mash from the sheer proximity. Donghyuck’s chest is so warm against his own.

A mildly burnt kitchen and a final decision to just order in later, Renjun finds himself sitting by Donghyuck’s polished black kitchen counter — and the atmosphere is rather odd. Not uncomfortable, or quiet, Donghyuck keeps on talking as he pokes at his rice, but this is not what Renjun assumed he was coming here for.

To be honest, well, he obviously assumed he was here for sex. That this was a booty call, a message with barely any text bare for the address? Renjun knows what that looks like when sees it. 

But this is … not a booty call. Not yet, anyway. The night could still progress into unknown territories but as of right now, this is cheap dinner in styrofoam boxes in Donghyuck’s billion won kitchen and Donghyuck’s feet propped in his lap as he recounts something about the new movie his manager is trying to book him for, and how much he hates auditions still, after all these years, and an idol group song playing faintly in the background.

This is how Donghyuck lives: there’s a framed picture of an apple next to the stove, and Donghyuck insists it has a comedic background but he refuses to tell Renjun what it is. The only other picture is one of a younger Donghyuck, round cheeks and unruly hair, surrounded by three other kids. His siblings, he explains when he catches Renjun looking. He hasn’t seen them in a while, his family moved to Jeju when he was five and he came back to Seoul to pursue his career by himself. “They never visit anymore.” He shrugs around another bite of meat.

There are magazines stacked on the table behind them, some with Donghyuck’s face on it, most without. He keeps the balcony door slightly ajar. Little knick knacks are scattered across every surface, souvenirs from countries he’s filmed in, little toys you would get from children’s chocolate, at least five tubes of hand lotion.

Renjun finishes his last bites, and Donghyuck goes to put both of their dishes into the sink.

“— trying to tell me that it isn’t my choice what movies I get to be in, you know. Like it’s not my career that he’s trying to ruin here. I’ve seen quite a bit of your manager, and if you think _he_ is bad, then —”

“I mean, Ten gave you my number,” Renjun cuts in, and Donghyuck spins around.

A smile grows across his face again, and he looks at Renjun with something almost like fondness. It makes Renjun’s heart ache. He knows what it really is — disguised horniness in the lazy evening atmosphere or maybe some kind _I put my dick in that_ ego spiel — but he likes to dream. “That’s true,” he says, and steps closer to Renjun again. “Who knows if I ever would’ve been able to talk to you again if he hadn’t.”

_Who knows if I hadn’t gotten over you at some point if he hadn’t._

Renjun doesn’t voice any of that. He wraps his arms around Donghyuck’s neck when he steps close to him and he lets his legs close around Donghyuck’s hips and he kisses him with all he has. Donghyuck’s hands roam down his back, they prod and search for what is theirs, and Renjun lets him. He drowns all his worries in their kisses.

The bedroom is big and wide with a gigantic window that overlooks the city. That must be from where Donghyuck sent the pictures. The sheets are rumpled and smell like Donghyuck’s perfume. Renjun lands on them.

Heat and light, everything burns through the wires in his brain when Donghyuck kisses him again. He barely remembers what they do — just how he feels. He feels the laughter stuck between his ribs when Donghyuck blows a raspberry on his chest, he feels the teeth and the tongue in their kisses, he feels the ecstasy prickling under his skin like electricity, and he feels the heat of it all. He feels the rhythm of their movements, Donghyuck’s silky hair between his fingers, a bruise sucked into the inside of his thigh and Donghyuck’s skin between his teeth. He doesn’t know where he bites him, but Donghyuck gasps and holds him closer.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Donghyuck whispers against his lips, and Renjun grins against him. He can’t remember how much time has passed since the arousal spiked into white hot bliss, or how long it took them to come down from it, but Donghyuck is almost rocking him in his arms now, too gently for his words. “I hate you.”

Renjun reaches up to push his face away, but he ends up squishing his cheeks and pressing a kiss to his mushed lips. “Stop being annoying,” he says, and Donghyuck grins hard enough for him to let go of his face.

He falls asleep to Donghyuck’s even breathing against his chest.

In Donghyuck’s bed, Renjun dreams about the time their day in the little town of Blind Bight, when they were both off and Ten left their car unattended and the keys on the desk in his room.

It took them less than an hour out of the city to get there, and they weren’t heading for it but it was where they landed. Just following the roads, hazy air and green fields that barely had the chance to fade out the buildings of the city before the small town faded back in. Donghyuck curled up on the passenger seat and stared at Renjun with a smile on his face, until Renjun tore a hand off the steering wheel to slap at his thigh.

“What are you staring at?” he asked as he steered them down the dusty road, always towards the sea.

“I’m wondering how one person can be this fucking ugly.” 

Donghyuck screeched loud enough for someone on the sidewalk outside to turn around when Renjun pinched his thigh — hard — and Renjun threw the lady a small wave as Donghyuck whimpered. “Shut the hell up.”

They passed through Blind Bight with its colorful little houses and its green trees and kids playing on the sidewalks, Renjun steered them past green lawns and vegetation they couldn’t name. His phone was turned off in the backseat, and he would turn it on later to find hundreds of missed calls from Ten, and he wouldn’t care.

Donghyuck looked nice by the sea. He always looked nice, Renjun was finding it harder to deny as of lately, but the salt in the air made his hair stand up a little, and his face was glowing in the sun. They had parked the car somewhere by the edge of the town and walked barefoot along Blind Bight’s little part of the shore. Donghyuck held onto his hand, even though they were both sweaty and it was too warm between their palms. They didn’t let go.

No one knew them out here. They were just two boys holding hands by the sea in a little small town in Australia. They were not two of South Korea’s most famous actors, tangled up in a risky affair.

They were just Huang Renjun and Lee Donghyuck. No one really cared, no one really looked.

Renjun liked it like that. He liked holding Donghyuck’s hand, too, he realized that day, for the first time. It should’ve been a problem, but it wasn’t until later. He refused to let it be a problem in that moment, as he clung a little tighter to the heat of Donghyuck’s palm and dragged him along, down the line of the shore.

He pressed a kiss to the back of Donghyuck’s neck, sun heated skin against his lips. He tasted like salt.

No one looked when they climbed back into the car and fucked on the backseat, way too spacious and still too cramped for the two of them. No one looked when they drove back beneath the setting sun.

A one time getaway, a secret they still share. No one knows where they went that day, and Renjun likes it. 

He doesn’t remember when he woke up, when exactly the dream shifted into conscious memory, but he doesn’t mind so much. He reaches out for Donghyuck under the comforter, and falls back asleep with his fingers curled into the front of Donghyuck’s shirt. 

“What do you want for breakfast?”

Renjun blinks against the pale sunlight falling into the room. The curtains are drawn back, the city is alive outside, the sky is of a pale blue. He pushes himself up on his elbows to get a look at Donghyuck standing by the door; the comforter pools on his hips and the cool morning air is a blessing on his warmed skin. 

“Ooh, he lets his hookups stay for breakfast. What a gentleman.” A smile sneaks on his face.

Donghyuck returns it, and his eyes twinkle. He’s wearing sweatpants and an untied robe and … not much else, and Renjun is rather enjoying the view. Sexy fucking bastard, he thinks.

“If you get up right now, you’ll get a kiss thrown in, too.”

Renjun doesn’t need to be told that twice. He shoots up and out of Donghyuck’s bed, little care for the fact that all of his clothes are still discarded on the floor and he didn’t bother to put on anything else before he fell asleep last night. Donghyuck doesn’t seem to care, either. His arms come to rest around Renjun’s waist when Renjun grabs his face with both hands to plant not one, not two, but three kisses on his lips in rapid succession.

“Woah there, tiger,” Donghyuck laughs, pulling away. “I said one, not as many as you want.”

Renjun snorts. “You say that as if you wouldn’t kiss me whenever I ask for it.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Oh yeah? Prove that, then.”

“I will. Come on, hit me with it.”

“Okay. Kiss me.”

“No.”

Renjun pouts. Donghyuck kisses him.

It’s a small victory, but one Renjun celebrates thoroughly. He scourges Donghyuck’s kitchen for ingredients, deciding that he won’t let him burn down the kitchen for the second meal in a row. He makes Donghyuck feed him most of it, though, because he can, and because he won, and because Donghyuck would do anything for him.

Or so he would like to believe. For a little while at least, until this bubble bursts, like it always eventually does.

This time, it’s about two hours after they finish breakfast and Renjun helps Donghyuck clean and put away the dishes, and sucked his dick against the fridge. They are curled up on the couch with a senseless Netflix show playing and Renjun’s hand under Donghyuck’s shirt and Donghyuck’s lips attached to his neck, when it bursts.

Donghyuck backs away from the kisses he was peppering on his skin to say, “I actually am having my manager over in a little bit for some more discussion, so you, uh … you’ll have to leave. In a bit.”

Renjun blinks at the TV screen. “Oh. Yeah. Yes, of course.”

There’s a pause. Donghyuck squeezes his hand around Renjun’s arm in what seems to be solely a gesture of encouragement, but Renjun would like to think, like to hope, that’s trying to hold him here. He’s not, though, of course. He presses another kiss to his neck, like a parting gift, and says, “I’m really sorry. I should’ve warned you.”

“Oh, come on. It’s no problem.” Renjun tries for a laugh. “I bet Ten is gonna come over later, anyway, he likes to yell at me over lunch, and I’m due for being yelled at a little.”

Donghyuck gives him a small smile, and Renjun kisses the button shape of his nose.

“I’ll see you soon?” he asks when Donghyuck sees him out the door. He tries not to let too much hope slip into his voice, or that Donghyuck will at least play it off as Renjun being a little too desperate. He is, but not for what Donghyuck would think. Maybe a little. But there is one thing in the world he wants more than that.

Donghyuck winks at him. “Give me a call whenever you need me, babe.”

Renjun leaves the building with a tiny blush on his face, and this time, he can’t hide his face in the cover of the night when he gets on the subway home. He ignores the snapping of iPhone cameras and pulls out his own phone. There is only one person he can think to text right now, no matter how hard he will judge him for this.

_[11:54am] Renjun: I fucked up colossally, Min-ah._

He goes back to him. Of course he does, and not even a week later.

No matter how much Jaemin begged him not to. No matter the fact that he brought Jeno with him when he came over that day, sweet, good Jeno, who squeezed Renjun’s hand as he cried into his couch cushion. Jaemin warned him so many times, even Jeno did. Before he went back, after. And he’s still doing it.

Jaemin would probably kill him. He’s not a very emotional person, Jaemin, his heart lives in his brain but he never lets it out as much as Renjun does. But he cried that day. Not much, he never cries a lot, but he let a few tears slip as Renjun sobbed into the pillow with Jeno holding onto him. Jeno didn’t cry, he’s the one warm rock they can all cling to, but it was probably hard on him, too, that day. Renjun wouldn’t want to say that Jeno loves him himself, but he thinks the fact that Jeno has stuck around since they were twelve is pretty evident. And he sure loves Jaemin, if in a different way. Seeing both of them cry in the same space, because of the same person …

Jaemin’s crying face and Jeno’s gentle smile are stuck in Renjun’s head when he gets back on the subway to Gangnam after dark, phone warm in his pocket. He turned off his location so they won’t be able to track him.

“Welcome back,” Donghyuck mumbles against his lips when Renjun kisses him the second he opens the door.

Renjun doesn’t let him do all of that _stuff_ this time around — no dinner, no friendly conversation, not even innocent kissing in the kitchen before they get down to it. He’s here for a reason, and he will cash that in. If he manages to fall into a senseless rhythm, if he can convince himself that he wants Donghyuck only for the sex and nothing beyond, all of this will be so much easier. No one would have to cry anymore, if he could.

So they fuck. And again. And again, until they’re three rounds into the night and Renjun is panting into Donghyuck’s skin. It’s so hot in this room, the air is charged with sweat and tension.

“Renjun,” Donghyuck whispers against the crown of his head when they are both spent and Renjun is still hovering above him, not daring to take the weight off his arms and lower himself onto Donghyuck’s body. “Junjun,” Donghyuck coaxes, and the nickname almost makes tears spring to Renjun’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He pushes himself on one arm, rolls over to lie by Donghyuck’s side. 

Donghyuck turns his head to look at him. “Hmm, I think there is, though. You’re fucking like a rabbit.”

“Shouldn’t you be happy about that?”

“I would be, if it didn’t feel like you were just trying to get it over with.” He pushes himself up on one elbow until he’s sitting up and turns to fully face Renjun. “Are you okay? If you don’t want to have sex, you can just tell me —”

“No, no.” Renjun shakes his head. “That’s not it. If I wanted to get it over with, I wouldn’t have come all three times, would I?” A nervous laugh pushes past his lips and he curses himself for it. “That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

Renjun stares at him for a moment, blinking slowly. He could tell him right now. He could look him in the eyes and say _I’m in love with you._ Say, _I’m in love with you, and it’s ruining my life._ He could. There’s nothing stopping him, except for his own tongue lying in his mouth like a dead weight, and his heart racing in his chest. He could also just roll over and let Donghyuck put his dick in him again, make him forget this conversation ever happened. He could moan a little louder, keen a little harder, put on an act until Donghyuck forgets why he was worried.

It’s sweet, that he worries about him, but Renjun has no use for that right now. Not if he wants his plan to work.

So he rolls onto his side, back to Donghyuck, and says, “It’s nothing. I’m just a bit stressed.”

Donghyuck sighs, but he leaves it at that.

Press conferences are Renjun’s least favorite part of releasing new movies.

It’s been out for a week and a half now, and he can’t believe that so much has happened in so little time. It’s like the days are passing like stretched out chewing gum, slow and long, and too much is happening for him to take any note of the passage of time, and while he feels like months have passed, it hasn’t even been two weeks.

He slips out of Donghyuck’s apartment before the sun rises, unnoticed. Donghyuck is still asleep when he leaves his bed, and Renjun presses a kiss to his forehead before he does, even if his heart breaks.

He’ll see him later, anyway.

The city is still quiet and slow, only just starting up. He makes it home with little trouble, and he steps under the shower and stays there for a good hour as soon as he does. Until his skin feels raw and pinker than usual and he finally doesn’t feel like every inch of him smells like Donghyuck anymore. He dresses, and calls Ten.

“Thank god you’re already up,” Ten says when Renjun climbs into the van twenty minutes later. “I thought I was gonna have to throw you out of bed, too, with how you’ve been acting the last few days. Where _were_ you?”

Renjun keeps his mouth closed around the straw of the coffee Ten brought, and stares out the window.

“Fine.” Ten shrugs. “You’re here on time, and you even showered _and_ called me yourself, I guess that’s more than I expected already. You know what’s up for today?”

He gives him a short nod. Of course he does. It’s the same cycle of press conferences and interviews that he goes through every time he releases something. He can recognize most of the reporters by name, he knows all of the procedures, most of the questions they will ask, and he knows how to present himself as more than he is.

He promised himself months ago that he would not allow Lee Donghyuck to destroy this for him.

“Of course, though, we’re all very close because we spent so much time with each other there. It’s a beautiful place, and this is a beautiful crew. We’re all like a family!” Donghyuck laughs, and Renjun does his best to smile at the cameras fluttering. Lying is so much easier when you’re being recorded, he’s found over the years.

He barely knows the girl sitting next to him, though he vaguely remembers talking to her once, next to the coffee machine on set, over the circles under his eyes. Now they’re family, apparently.

Donghyuck has been awesome today, of course. The reporters love him more than any of them, there are three times the cameras directed at his face than at Renjun’s, and most of the questions center around his relationships with the rest of the crew. He looks great, too, like fresh out of vacation, hair pushed lazily over his head. Renjun tries not to stare, leans back until there’s too many people between them, but his gaze is drawn back every time Donghyuck laughs. Every time his voice drips like honey into his mic and Renjun has to close his eyes.

“Is there anyone you’ve gotten particularly close to during the filming?” the girl towards the front of the crowd asks. She’s asked a lot of questions about relationships, and Renjun tries not to squint.

Everyone knows. No matter that none of them know what they got up to behind the closed doors of their hotel rooms, it would’ve been hard to ignore that he and Donghyuck were close beyond that. They hung out on set, disappeared together, talked to each other almost all hours of the day — it was so obvious.

Nothing more than two boys becoming friends. It made sense to everyone else, he guesses, they are both loud and known for their boldness, it made sense that they became close as soon as they met.

Donghyuck hesitates a second too long, and Renjun can feel the ache splitting in his chest. Of course, he’s not going to say it. He’s not going to let anyone look through the gaps in the fence they built around them.

“Well, I’m close to all of them,” he laughs nervously. “I can’t think of anyone in particular.”

The girl next to Renjun frowns, and he lets his eyes slip closed for just a moment. Not long enough for the cameras to catch it, but long enough for his heart to calm down.

Other reporters try to deflect and get back to the topic of the movie, and Renjun easily answers questions about his character. He spots Ten’s face in the crowd, with a tiny frown between his eyebrows, but he gives Renjun an encouraging smile upon meeting his eyes. He can do this. He takes a deep breath, and he keeps on smiling.

More pictures are taken before the conference draws to a close. Renjun does his best. 

Just before they are about to close, though, the girl at the front pipes up again, and this time she’s facing Renjun. “Renjun-ssi, I think everyone is curious about the reasons for you storming out of the premiere afterparty?”

Renjun’s fingers close tightly around his mic. “Oh.” He tries a laugh, but it comes out nervous. “That was nothing. Nothing to worry about. I just wasn’t feeling so well that night.”

“So the rumors that you have a fight with one of the crew members are false?”

“Yes, they are.” He and Donghyuck never had a fight. It’s not a lie. “I’m on good terms with all of them.” He tries not to worry about how his voice sounds so delicate, how it shakes with every word.

He brushes past Donghyuck when they are out of their way out of the venue, and he ignores the heat of his gaze on him, he doesn’t spare him a glance. There are too many people here, and he already feels like crying. He already fucked up, he knows when he meets Ten out by the van and sees the look on his face. There’s no salvaging this, not the situation nor the wound in his heart. Ten squeezes his hand on the way home, and he knows there’s only one thing he wants him to do: stay the hell away from Donghyuck.

That night, it’s Renjun who sends a message with nothing but his address.

“Are you okay?” Donghyuck pants against his lips, but Renjun doesn’t want to hear it.

He pulls his face closer against his own, he digs his fingers into the sides of his neck and he kisses him with abandon. They are squeezed together on the armchair in his living room, not having made it to the bedroom, and their kisses taste like the salty tears he never shed, and the wine he poured down his throat a few minutes before Donghyuck showed up at his door. It pulses under his skin, now, and he kisses him harder.

“Renjun, are you drunk?” Donghyuck asks again, but he doesn’t complain when Renjun takes his shirt off. 

“Yes, I am. Fuck you.” He dives back in, licks along Donghyuck’s teeth and pins his hips back against the armrest, just to win a little space between them, just for a moment.

They do move, eventually, when they are both hard in their pants and bit each other’s lips raw. They stumble down the hallway towards the bedroom, getting distracted every few steps by pushing each other against the walls, fighting for some twisted dominance with the way they kiss and tear and push. 

Renjun’s back stings from the bluntness of Donghyuck’s fingernails by the time they tumble onto the bed together and he pulls Donghyuck’s pants down. 

“Fuck you,” he murmurs again, before he sinks his teeth into the supple flesh of Donghyuck’s thigh. Donghyuck keens, pushes his hips up into the air desperately but Renjun pushes them back down. “Fuck you. _Fuck_ you.”

Fuck him, fuck Lee Donghyuck for everything. This is all his fault, the burning ache in Renjun’s chest when he shoves his face between Donghyuck’s thighs until he screams his moans into the empty silence of Renjun’s apartment. The headache is pushing tears into his eyes, and he can’t even look him in the eyes when he twists two fingers in his ass and Donghyuck groans into his chest. Renjun keeps his eyes on the headboard.

It’s his fault, because of his flirty mouth and the way he can look at Renjun like he’s the only person in the room. Because he’s so beautiful under him now, flushed red but still keeping the fight in his eyes when he bites into Renjun’s mouth. Renjun bites him right back, and his sheets will be mottled with their spit.

It took him some time to realize that Donghyuck looks like that at everyone.

Donghyuck does not relent control, and the fight never stops. Renjun doesn’t have it in him, not tonight. It’s a fun game, normally, to see who ends up on top of the equation, and it’s even better when he wins. But even with Donghyuck pinned under him, burning and panting out his name when he pushes into him, Renjun can’t. Can’t stay in control, can’t strip Donghyuck off his control in the way he knows he wants him to. He lets his mask slip far too many times, and Donghyuck pounces onto every weak spot, and presses his fingers into the bruises.

And Renjun lets him. He rests his forehead into the dip of Donghyuck’s chest and snaps his hips into him, and when Donghyuck grips him to take over the movement, he lets him.

Donghyuck rocks down on him until they both come, and Renjun lets himself fall apart.

He rests his chin on the crook of Donghyuck’s neck as he comes down from it, and lets his tears silently drop onto the sheets. 

Donghyuck passes out right after, like he normally does for a little while. He curls up into a small ball and lets his eyes fall shut. Renjun covers him in one of his blankets and tries not to wince at the sight of Donghyuck against the familiar patterns of his bed, and against the background of his bedroom.

There’s something delicate about letting someone into the privacy of your home like that, Renjun thinks. Or maybe it’s just him, and the fact that he has never been in love before.

Love, he thinks as he steps out onto his balcony, is a strange little thing. He can count on one hand how many people he’s ever told that he loves them. His parents, his grandmother. Jeno and Jaemin. But all of that, that’s a different kind of love. Family, of course, and Jeno and Jaemin are almost part of that, too. Almost, because it would be weird to call them that after the things they’ve done together. But whatever he feels for them, deep friendship and a raw kind of sexual attraction, it’s not romantic. He’s never felt romantic attraction towards anyone. Until now.

He lights his cigarette and lets himself fall onto one of his chairs out here.

Does he love Donghyuck? Possibly. Probably. He likes being with him, certainly, more than he should. He would like to be in his life beyond the sex, he thinks. He liked what they had in Australia — a dream of what they could have been, in another life. If Renjun wasn’t Renjun and Donghyuck wasn’t Donghyuck.

A life in which he could feel all that he felt in Australia. He felt held. He felt cherished. He felt _loved._

Now, with Australia he means — the dream they lived out behind closed doors. Smoking on the balcony together, the night when Donghyuck held him under the night sky. Drifting around in the indoor pool, pinkies linked, standing under the cool spray of the shower together with their lips innocently attached. Donghyuck kissing along his thighs and brushing his hair out of his face before he fell asleep. Donghyuck’s hand in his over the warm sheets.

Not everything beyond that. Not the sneaking around, not the lying, not the secrecy. It was exciting at the time, to share this secret that they kept. Renjun got off on it, but now it leaves him aching.

He doesn’t want to be a dirty little secret anymore.

When he told this to Jeno and Jaemin, during one of the weak nights when they got too wine drunk and ended up sprawled on Renjun’s living room floor instead of fucking, Jaemin looked at him with so much pity it physically hurt. “You don’t deserve that,” he said, and Jeno squeezed his hand. “Anyone could be glad to call you theirs.”

And he knows that Jeno and Jaemin used to have those kinds of feelings for him once, so it consoles him a little. To know that they are still here, and they still think he’s worthy of love.

He just wishes it wasn’t so hard to dare to be in love, when he is who he is.

He just wishes he could fall in love with someone who could actually love him back.

By the time he finishes his second cigarette, the balcony door slides open and Donghyuck steps out to him. He’s wearing his own sweatshirt, and his bare legs press up to Renjun’s when he drops into a chair squeezed so closely to Renjun’s own. He looks tired, hair falling into his eyes and the city glow dulls him out.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks, before he sneaks himself one of Renjun’s cigarettes.

“Smoking,” he says, and Donghyuck sends him a deadpan glance over the flame of the lighter. “Contemplating about where I went wrong with my life. You know. The usual.”

Donghyuck quirks a brow. “Do you usually think about your failures in life after you fuck me?”

Renjun pinches his thigh, but he can’t help his own smile. Donghyuck is not wrong, exactly, but not in the way he thinks, and he doesn’t need to know that. He’s humming to himself contentedly as he watches the smoke he breathes out rise into the starless sky. Renjun wouldn’t dare ruin his night.

“You know, Jun,” Donghyuck starts, and Renjun’s heart seizes at the name used outside of certain context. “I’m not stupid — don’t.” Renjun bites his cheek to stop the comment from leaving his mouth, and smiles. “I’m _not_ stupid, as opposed to popular opinion, and I know something’s up. I know you were angry with me earlier, at the conference. I know you were upset that night at the afterparty. I know that you cried over my shoulder just now, too, and you were acting really off yesterday, too. I don’t know if — if something happened, or if I did something and I don’t want to pressure you into telling me, but. I’m here. If you need me. To talk, if you want to.”

Renjun stays silent, and stares out at the skyline of the city he loves so much. One more thing that he loves. 

The words are still at the tip of his tongue, waiting, and he could say them. Either of the sentences that sit there. _I’m in love with you._ Or, _I think we should stop sleeping with each other._

He isn’t sure which option would hurt less. To shove Donghyuck out of his life, or to watch him leave on his own. One would save him the heartbreak of being left, the other at least would let him have the closure.

He says neither, in the end, and lights another cigarette.

The line rings, and Renjun places his phone flat on the table in front of him, the speaker blasting the waiting sound through the empty room. He turned off the lights after Donghyuck left, maybe because it feels easier that way, or maybe because he is being dramatic. It’s hard to tell, but now he doesn’t have to close his eyes.

“Renjun?” Her voice echoes off the living room walls, and Renjun smiles. She always sounds like comfort.

“Hi mama,” he says, and he hopes the weakness of his voice doesn’t travel. 

It doesn’t, apparently, because his mother sounds chipper when she replies, “Oh, hi! You haven’t called in so long! We’ve been missing you, baby. Wait, let me get your father —”

“Actually, mama,” he cuts in, and clears his throat a moment later out of shame. He doesn’t normally like cutting his mother off, and he does miss his parents a lot, but. “Actually, I’m calling because I wanted to talk to you. Alone.”

“Oh?” He can hear her moving, and it sounds like she’s sitting down. “Is something the matter?”

Well, is something the matter? He knows exactly why he’s calling, but the words get stuck in his throat. She’s right, he hasn’t called in so long, and now he’s only doing it because he’s suffering the effects of what is most definitely his own fault. How does he tell his mother, who he last saw in person more than a year ago, that the only reason he’s calling now is because he’s in love with someone who will never be able to give him what he wants?

What leaves his mouth, between a choked out breath, in the end is, “I like someone,” which doesn’t accurately sum up anything of what he’s been feeling over the past few months, at all.

“Oh, that’s nice, darling.” She sounds confused, and Renjun winces. 

He clears his throat again, and tries to explain, “It’s — he’s — he’s one of my coworkers.”

Half a minute of silences passes, and then his mother, tenderly, asks, “Someone you’ve been in a movie with?” When he doesn’t reply, she sighs, and he can almost see the way she’d smooth her hand over her hair in worry, full with the frown on her face. “Oh no. Well, that isn’t very fortunate, is it?”

“It’s not,” Renjun chokes out, and he feels like crying again. “It’s my most recent movie, too.”

“I’m so sorry, my darling,” she says, and she does sound like she is, but she doesn’t know half of it yet.

“It gets even worse.” He swallows, and his mother is very silent on the other end of the line, waiting patiently for what he has to say. “I don’t just like him, it’s not just a stupid crush, I — Mama, I think I might be in love.”

She seems surprised. “Do you know him that well?”

“Yes, I —” He breathes out, and pushes the words out like vomit, “I’ve been sleeping with him.”

The silence last significantly longer this time. She’s mostly stunned, he thinks, their family has never been all that traditional when it comes to abstaining of sex before marriage, but this is all very new information for her. Renjun would normally not tell his mother anything about his sex life, but he thinks this is vital information for the understanding of his feelings and his pain. Which is what he wants her to know about.

“Uh. I mean. For how long have you been sleeping with him?”

Renjun closes his eyes. “We started in February, when we were on set in Australia. It lasted the entirety of our stay there, so until April. We stopped when we came back to Korea, and we didn’t talk for almost two months. We started talking and, eventually, … other things again a few weeks ago after Ten gave him my number.”

“So …” The frown on his mother’s face travels through her voice. “Does that mean he likes you, too?”

“I really don’t think he does,” Renjun says hoarsely. “I think he likes the sex more than anything, and I love him too much to send him away.”

It hurts, saying out loud what he’s been thinking for a while. Not even to Jeno and Jaemin did he dare to say it, because he can’t stand the pity in their eyes. He winds his arms around his middle, as if to ease the pain that threatens to consume his body whole, and lets his head droop low. His mother stays quiet for another while.

“What makes you think that?” she asks eventually.

So he tells her. About the last evening in Australia, about the party after the premiere, about the press conference. About the way Donghyuck wouldn’t even look at him (he conveniently forgets to mention how he initially thought having a dirty little secret that they share was kind of hot, his mother doesn’t need to know that), about how he refused to admit they were even friends, despite all of the crew already knowing.

“I’m really sorry, darling, but,” she says hesitantly when he finishes. “But that does sound like he wants to avoid anyone knowing about what you have at all cost. Like … like he only wants you behind closed doors.”

Renjun closes his eyes, and the tears that have been lingering in his lashes roll down his cheeks.

“I can’t tell you why he does that. You are a wonderful boy, and yes, I have to say that because I’m your mother, but I really do think you’re a good person with a good and loving heart. You deserve better than someone who doesn’t want the world to know that he’s with you. You deserve someone who shows you off, because your love and affections should be a privilege for him, not something he can take advantage of.”

It sounds so much like what Jaemin told him, Renjun laughs a little through his tears. “So you think I should leave it?” he asks, wiping the tears off his cheeks with a ball of his palm.

“I would absolutely tell you that, but I raised you and I already know you’re not going to take that advice.”

Renjun laughs again, but he has to admit that she’s right. He doesn’t care how much Donghyuck hurts him, if he’s being honest, he’s willing to forgive and forget everything just to have him for one night. No matter how much he wants to be more than that — if that’s the only way he can have Donghyuck, he will take it gladly.

“Yeah, I think I just needed to talk to someone about it.”

His mother hums on the other end. “That’s what I’m here for, baby. You can call whenever.”

“Thank you, mama,” he says, and he still feels the warm comfort of talking to her linger in his chest. No matter how much he cries and hurts, at least, she will always be there, one phone call away.

“Of course.” He can hear her smile, but it doesn’t sound happy. “And please, Renjun. Whatever your decision ends up being, please be careful, and please be gentle to yourself. Try to take care of yourself before anyone else.”

“Oh, screw _you,_ Huang.” Donghyuck throws his controller down on the couch when Renjun beats him for the fifth time in a row. Renjun does a little celebrative dance along with the Mario Kart characters on the TV screen, and he sticks his tongue out at Donghyuck when he flips him off.

“Try not to cry too much,” he coos, and pinches Donghyuck’s cheek. “I mean, you could at least _try_ to keep up.”

Donghyuck pouts and grabs him around the waist, but not to pull him down. Instead, he digs his fingers into his sides until he goes down himself, writhing on the couch and begging for mercy between breathless giggling fits.

Mercy is the last thing Donghyuck has in mind. He tickles him even harder, crawling over him until he straddles his thighs to pin him to the couch and have better access to his sides. Renjun tries to buck and throw him off, but Donghyuck plants himself down hard. His hands are quick and skilled, a quality Renjun normally appreciates quite a lot, but now he tries to kick his legs and curses him for those deadly fingers.

“Who’s crying now, huh?” Donghyuck asks with a big grin on his face.

“Get the fuck off me,” Renjun wails and tries to thrash, but Donghyuck has him pinned down pretty well, and it only leads to more whining. “ _Donghyuck,_ Hyuck, Hyuckie, get off me. Please, _please,_ ple —”

His begging is cut off by Donghyuck sealing his lips over his, and the hands at his sides stilling to hold him instead. They melt into the cushions and each other, bodies fitting into each other like lock and key. Renjun’s hands leave his arms to slide around his neck instead, and pull him even closer. He gets high on the tender warmth of Donghyuck’s kisses, he’s always craved them more than anything. More than the hands that hike up his shirt a little to slide up his bare sides, more than the gently suggestive caresses Donghyuck lays on his skin.

He moans and arches into the kiss when Donghyuck’s fingers circle his nipples, and he makes an effort to let one of his hands slide up Donghyuck’s shirt, too, explore the curve of his bare back. 

Donghyuck is still dressed up all fancy, he rushed here after an interview to relieve some pressure. Renjun didn’t expect that to mean seven consecutive rounds of Mario Kart, but he’s not complaining. Not when Donghyuck looks like this, anyway. He untucks the rest of his button up from his pants, and slides his other hand up his tummy.

“I think you should dress up to come here more often,” he mumbles against Donghyuck’s cheek while his hands make work of the buttons. They both laugh and Donghyuck licks a fat stripe up his cheek, at which Renjun squeals.

“Yeah?” Donghyuck laughs. “You like it?”

“You look fucking hot,” Renjun says with his eyes fixed on Donghyuck’s, and they both smile into the next kiss. Renjun slides a hand up the full naked expanse of Donghyuck’s chest, and starts kissing down his neck. His body is already going back into overdrive a little, head spinning from the poison Donghyuck leaves on his tongue, heart beating too fast to heat up his skin. He kisses his neck, noses along his jaw and really, they should move soon —

The rotation of the orbit he’s built around Donghyuck comes to a screeching halt when his eyes catch on a cluster of bruises under his collarbone. One that he definitely did not leave there himself.

In a second, all the heat in his body is replaced with ice. It burns him from the inside out in the coldest kind of way, and he can’t tear his eyes away. There’s only one word in his head. _Who …?_

“Renjun?” Donghyuck looks flushed, and a little out of it, when Renjun finally snaps his eyes back up to his face. His eyes look almost a little cloudy, too far gone already to think, but a tiny frown graces his features now. It looks like worry. Renjun wants to think it’s worry. “Are you okay? Do you want to stop?”

Renjun wants to say yes, so he does. His mother’s words come back to mind. _Take care of yourself before anyone else,_ so he nods, slowly, and Donghyuck slides off of his lap.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Donghyuck asks kindly. When Renjun shakes his head, he goes on, “Do you need anything? Water? A hug, or a blanket? Me to leave?”

Renjun shakes his head again. “No, I just. I’ll be right back, please don’t leave.”

He pushes off the couch and takes off down the hallway towards the bathroom. The marble tiles are blessedly cool against his feet, and he wraps both of his hands around the edge of the sink. His reflection stares back at him like a ghost, and he doesn’t know if it’s the light that makes him look so pale, or if he really lost so much color recently. No wonder Ten always thinks he’s sick. He pulls a grimace at himself, and it only makes him feel worse.

Donghyuck. Donghyuck was intimate with someone else, probably had sex with someone else. Which is well within his right, Renjun tries to remind himself. They have never been exclusive, Donghyuck doesn’t owe him fidelity. How can he demand that, anyway, when he spent two months senselessly sleeping with Jeno and Jaemin?

He stopped when Donghyuck came back into his life, but that's besides the point. That’s personal.

As is the hurt that simmers hot in his chest now, no matter how much he wants to get rid of it. He knows he can’t blame Donghyuck for this, but it sure is tempting to try. He could shift all this pain into anger and be free of it.

But he won’t. It’s not Donghyuck’s fault, and he will never blame him for breaking a promise he never made. 

He washes his hands. He scrubs his face with ice cold water until he doesn’t feel like crying anymore. He fixes his hair and his clothes and waits a few minutes for the redness of his face to subdue, before he walks back out.

Donghyuck has buttoned his shirt back up, carefully hiding the mark, and he waits for him in the kitchen. It’s a way to make Renjun feel less like he’s expected to go back to what they were doing, the change of location, because the kitchen is not as comfortable, not as intimate, with no soft surfaces to lie on. Not that they haven’t fucked in here, Donghyuck had him bent over that counter just a week ago, but it’s still different.

“I didn’t wanna risk burning down your apartment, so I ordered some delivery food. If you want. I just ordered what you normally do, I hope that was okay. Should be here in like ten minutes?”

He looks so unsure, now, with his big eyes fixed on Renjun’s face. Renjun gives him a smile, but he’s afraid that it shakes a little, so he steps closer. He winds his hand into Donghyuck’s, and pulls himself closer to him until he’s tucked into Donghyuck’s chest, and he rests his head on his shoulder. “That sounds great. Thank you.”

Donghyuck breathes out in relief, and raises one hand to Renjun’s face. The way he strokes his thumb down his cheek, like brushing away an invisible tear really almost makes Renjun cry.

If this is what it feels like when Lee Donghyuck cares about you, Renjun never wants it to stop.

“Look, this is all very exciting and I’m very happy that you’re bringing us along to meet all of your fancy actor friends, but if that asshole tries _anything,_ I will literally punch him. In front of everyone.”

Renjun smiles to himself and elects to stay quiet while he fixes Jaemin’s collar. Jeno is still doing his hair in the mirror next to them, but Jaemin’s greatest struggle has been his outfit. They had to recruit Renjun to join them in the bathroom to fix it, from where he was taking a very nice nap on their couch with Jaemin’s favorite blanket. 

He didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. He had to flee his own four walls and crash in their bed, because his apartment smells like Donghyuck, now, and he felt like it was choking him to death.

He hasn’t told Jeno and Jaemin anything about his discovery that Donghyuck sleeps with other people, yet.

“Ah, Injunnie, you’re a magician when it comes to these kinds of things,” Jaemin praises, turning left and right to marvel at his outfit in the mirror. “If you ever get tired of acting, you should consider a job in the fashion industry, I’m sure they’re looking for someone just like you.”

“Someone who can fix outfits backstage?” he asks when he flips the last piece of fabric and slaps Jaemin’s chest to signal that he’s done. Jaemin coos at him and Renjun flips him off. “Sounds like my dream job.”

Jeno drives them to the venue, in his tiny little light blue Toyota that looks a little out of place in a parking lot full of polished black SUVs and vans with bulletproof glass in the windows. None of them care very much, they are running late, anyway, and most people attending are already inside and not paying attention to their car.

They meet Ten and Sicheng right by the door, and Ten’s face is already flushed the exact shade of pink it usually does after one glass of wine too many. He grins brighter than Renjun has seen him do in weeks, and he throws both of his arms around Renjun quite enthusiastically.

“I’m so glad you decided to come, you little gremlin,” he says loud enough for some people to turn around in amusement. “And I see you’ve brought your boyfriends as well! Hi, so nice to meet you, I’m Ten, the manager.”

Ten has met Jeno and Jaemin at least half a dozen times, alone in the early mornings in Renjun’s apartment over the last three months, but they still politely bow to him and introduce themselves with shy deflections about how they aren’t actually Renjun’s boyfriends. He catches Jeno blushing quite furiously out of the corner of his eye.

There’s food — and a lot of it, everywhere. They walk along the buffet and load their plates to their hearts’ desires, only to sit down at one of the long tables and be confronted with even more food. It’s a large gathering, Renjun supposes, with all of the actors and the crew members and whoever they brought with them tonight, so there’s got to be a lot of food. He’s quite content with the helpings on his plate, though Jaemin goes for even more.

“Oh! Hi Renjun-ssi!” The lady he sat next to at the premiere slides into the chair opposite of him, her husband at her side. She grins at him. “Nice to see you again. How have you been?”

He still doesn’t quite remember her name, but he makes friendly conversation and laughs at her joke about him seeming less tired tonight. She introduces her husband, whose name promptly slips from Renjun’s mind again, too, and orders two bottles of wine for the five of them to share. 

“So,” she says when she’s swirling her second glass between her fingers. Her eyes twinkle when she fixes them on Renjun, but her hand gestures to Jeno and Jaemin sitting on either side of him. “Are they your boyfriends?”

This time, after Jaemin’s had a glass of wine, Renjun catches both of them blushing.

“They are not,” he says gently, and neither of them reacts much to it. “Jeno here has been my best friend since we were twelve. Jaemin is Jeno’s boyfriend, and now also my best friend.”

There are eyes on his neck, Renjun realizes with a start. Someone is staring at him from across the room — staring at the back of his neck — and it’s the most uncomfortable feeling he’s had in a while. A prickling sensation runs down his back, the tiny hairs on his arms standing up, and he curls his fingers around his chopsticks.

It has to be Donghyuck. Who else would be staring at him here? Though he also doesn’t enjoy the thought of Donghyuck staring at him. Not now, not after so much.

He fills his wine glass back up and tips half of it down his throat in one go.

“Excuse me,” he says when he finishes the glass, pushing back his chair, and four more pairs of eyes land on him. He smiles at all of them. “I’ll be right back.”

The main part of the party (the get together?) is happening in a rented out restaurant, with the tables pushed together to form little seating groups, as well as a buffet at the side of the room. The orange lamps dim everything into a certain glow — the light would look phenomenal on Donghyuck, Renjun tries not to think — and there’s a live band quietly playing some old time classics. Renjun smiles at the guitarist when he steps towards the buffet.

The eyes on his neck only disappear when he turns back around to scan the room. 

Ten and Sicheng are engaged in hefty conversation with the producing team, and now Sicheng seems to be leaning on Ten pretty heavily, while Ten even looks somewhat composed. A rare sight. Jeno and Jaemin are still talking to his co-star and her husband, now having emptied most of the wine while Jeno had to stay sober. Jaemin’s cheeks are tinted rosy, and they’ve moved to holding hands on top of the table.

Renjun avoids finding Donghyuck for as long as he can, but when he does, his heart stops a painful beat.

Of course he’s not alone. No one here is, everyone brought their partners, or someone else to stay wrapped around them for a night. It’s the thing that comes with being an adult that Renjun hates the most — everyone around him falling in love, and it being standard to show up to events with your significant other.

The boy next to Donghyuck is young, probably around twenty, and he has a hand wrapped around Donghyuck’s lower arm. He’s good looking, too, his hair is bleached blonde and his face is coated in light makeup that makes him glow in the warm light. He laughs when Donghyuck tells a joke to the people around them, and Donghyuck pats his hand. He’s probably just arm candy and will be a hefty sum in his bank account richer after tonight, but still, Renjun’s heart aches. He almost wishes _he_ was Donghyuck’s arm candy. Just to be shown off, for a night.

Not hidden and kept behind closed doors.

Someone else at the table seems to tell a joke because Donghyuck throws his head back laughing, and when he comes back up, his eyes meet Renjun’s. It’s every cliche movie Renjun has ever starred in — maybe it bleeds into your personality at some point in the career — when the smile drops out of Donghyuck’s face and the world stops spinning once again. There’s only the two of them, in this orbit, circling around each other but never touching.

Renjun turns away first. He gets a glass of water and gulps it down like he’s dying of thirst. He stuffs a burning hot dumpling into his mouth right out of its container, and he doesn’t care when someone frowns at him for it.

He walks back to their table and he sits back down and he doesn’t turn around again.

Jeno’s warm hand comes to rest on his wrist, and he squeezes. It’s a silent way of asking, because the lady is still here and she’s talking quite animatedly to Jaemin about one of her past movies. Renjun turns to look at Jeno — he looks worried, brows creased, eyes wide — and gives him a smile. His fingers find Jeno’s and squeeze back. 

He’ll be all right, after all. At some point, he will be.

The party comes crashing down around them at some point long past midnight.

Renjun steps out to smoke — he spent the last three hours around a table with Jeno, Jaemin, Ten and Sicheng, emptying another bottle of wine until the room turned rosy. Ten gave him a disapproving look when he pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, but Renjun only shrugged. His lungs were craving it, the itchiness in his throat.

It’s cold out in the backyard of the place, and a bit disgusting. He can’t be out front in case anyone sees him, but there’s trash on the cobbles back here, and the trash bin by the door is full of stinking leftovers. A moth starts to circle around his head when he crushes his cigarette beneath his shoe, and he quickly steps back inside.

He meets a waitress on his way back to the main room, and she smiles at him as she digs out her own pack of cigarettes. He gives her his lighter, but he can’t say why. Maybe he already knows he won’t be here much longer. 

The live band is still playing, and Renjun lets his fingertips trace along the wall as he walks back slowly.

The moment he steps back into the room, he freezes in his tracks.

Their table is close to the door that led to the corridor with the backdoor, but Ten and Sicheng are gone. Renjun doesn’t have time to look for them, because there, at his table, is Donghyuck. Right opposite of Jeno and Jaemin, and he’s smiling at them in that very specific way. Renjun’s stomach drops into his feet.

Donghyuck is flirting with his best friends right in front of him.

He doesn’t dare step closer, and he can’t see Jeno and Jaemin’s faces from this angle. They have to be mad, though, right? They know who Donghyuck is. They know all about Renjun’s feelings. They have to be mad, they wouldn’t flirt back, they wouldn’t take advantage of this, they wouldn’t do that to him —

Jaemin moves like he’s talking, and Donghyuck grins at him. Renjun feels sick.

He’s too far away to hear what they’re saying, but Donghyuck reaches out and pats Jeno on the shoulder. It looks friendly and innocent enough, but Renjun knows Donghyuck’s tricks better than anyone else. 

He can tell by the look on his face, and so can Jeno, apparently. The situation escalates only seconds later.

Renjun can’t tell how it happens exactly. One second Donghyuck is grinning, happy and pleasant with his hand still lingering on Jeno’s shoulder in that very specific way Renjun knows would make him fall right to Donghyuck’s feet. And in the next, Donghyuck is drenching wet and gasping, scrambling backwards as a deep pink bleeds into the white of his shirt. Jeno is holding an empty glass that was standing in front of Jaemin just a moment ago.

Everyone turns to look at them. In the most cliche moment imaginable, the band stops playing.

“What the fuck, man?” Donghyuck yells. His hair is dripping red wine onto the fine hardwood floor.

Jeno sounds mostly unimpressed when he says, “I’ve known Renjun since middle school.” Donghyuck’s eyes seem close to falling out of his skull. “So yeah, _what the fuck, man?”_

Renjun gets distracted when Jaemin shows up at his side, phone in one hand and Renjun’s jacket in the other. He looks as confused as Renjun feels, but he offers him a smile. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispers and hands Renjun his jacket. “Before anything escalates.” He seems to gesture towards Jeno, or maybe a single glance is enough to communicate for them, Renjun wouldn’t be surprised. Jeno joins them on the way out.

The room is still quiet bare for a few scandalized whispers, and Renjun meets Ten’s eyes. They are blown wide, and he’s shaking his head frantically, but the damage is already done. Donghyuck stands drenched in red wine in the middle of the room, and Jeno loudly brought Renjun into relation with the situation.

Not that Renjun has the mind to blame him. His heart is beating erratically in his chest.

Jaemin clamps a firm hand over his shoulder as they exit the restaurant, and Jeno pulls his keys out of his pocket when they’re barely out the door. 

Renjun catches Donghyuck’s eyes through the large front window. He’s staring back at him, and his eyes are big and lost. If it wasn't for the ache spreading through his body, Renjun would almost feel bad for him.

He’s curled up under a light blanket on the corner of Jeno and Jaemin’s bed when his phone lights up.

Jeno and Jaemin are breathing evenly somewhere behind his back, sleeping in that grossly entangled way that Renjun’s found them in way too many times. Not that he and Donghyuck used to sleep any differently.

He doesn’t read the message immediately, out of sheer self preservation. He sheds the blanket, because it’s way too warm for late June, and leaves the bed in the pale shine of the moonlight falling in through the window. He knows this apartment almost as well as his own, by now, so he gets himself a glass of water and some chocolate from the fridge before he sits down at the kitchen counter and pulls up his phone.

Still, though, he hesitates. Does he really want to know?

It might just be Ten. Maybe he’s already come up with a way to save this situation, some wild PR stunt, or maybe he’s just asking what the hell happened, why the hell did that happen?

As if Renjun would know that himself.

To see Jeno flip on Donghyuck like that was … surprising to him, too. It was even to Jaemin, who arguably knows Jeno better than anyone else. It’s rare for him to get mad, even rarer for him to outwardly show that he’s mad, pretty much impossible for him to take his anger out on someone. But that’s what he did.

He was still fuming in the car, cursing about, “How dare he even try that? What the hell?”

When Renjun dared to ask, tentatively, why exactly Donghyuck made him so mad, Jeno looked at him in the rearview like he was crazy. “He tried to flirt with us,” he explained, like it was the most logical thing in the world. “Right in front of you, because yeah, he knew you were there, he even looked over for a second. And I had to watch both you _and_ Jaemin cry because of this man. I just couldn’t stand the sight of his dumb face anymore.”

Renjun closed his eyes then, and he closes them now, too. So yeah, if it's Ten asking about what the hell happened earlier, he wouldn’t be able to tell him. 

But it’s not, of course. 

Renjun presses the button on his phone, finally, and watches the screen light up. It’s Donghyuck’s contact, Renjun almost smiles to himself. Donghyuck’s name in the strict letters of his phone’s font, and one little message.

_[4:13am] Donghyuck: Can we talk?_

Renjun looks down at himself. He’s wearing one of Jeno’s big shirts and Jaemin’s sweatpants that sit loosely on his hips. He didn’t bring anything to sleep in besides the clothes he wore the night before, which they unwisely put in the laundry before they left, and he was too tired and felt too much like crying to stop by at his apartment on the way here. But his jacket is by the door, and it would hide the worst of it. He sighs.

_[4:31am] Renjun: Are you at home?_

Donghyuck’s apartment in Gangnam has become awfully familiar to Renjun. He knows the code, and he enters it without even ringing the doorbell. Donghyuck will know that it’s him. He knows where to put his shoes, so he does, he knows the few pictures on the walls, and he knows the way to Donghyuck’s bedroom by heart.

He knocks, and Donghyuck doesn’t tell him to come in, but he does so anyway.

The wine stained shirt is hung over the back of the desk chair, the curtains in front of the big windows are not fully drawn, and Donghyuck is sitting up in his bed with a book in his lap. He doesn’t look up at him.

He looks softer — his hair is still damp from the shower, and he washed all the makeup off. He’s wearing a white sleep shirt, probably silky soft to the touch, and it gives a gentle slope to his shoulders that Renjun is dying to trace. He looks small and soft in his own bed, and Renjun aches for him so much. His heart feels more hollow with every second he looks at him, and every fibre of his body wants to step forward and hold him against his chest.

So maybe he does, and maybe they don’t talk, after all. 

Renjun steps closer, and Donghyuck is already there. With warm hands and soft lips, like he’ll always be waiting for him. Renjun falls right into the trap, and lets himself melt him into his arms.

Giving in is so much easier than trying to put up a fight. Life is too short to pretend he’s not in love, so he doesn’t try. He lets his thighs slide on either side of Donghyuck’s hips, and he arches into the touch when Donghyuck rests his hands on his waist, and he wraps his hands around his head and kisses him slowly.

They don’t talk about it, but they don’t fuck, either. 

The sun is slowly rising outside, throwing its rays through the large gaps in the curtains. It’s been a long night. They kiss until they’re too tired to move their lips, and just breathe in each other’s space. Donghyuck is so warm, always radiating heat, so Renjun lets himself sink against him. Donghyuck brushes his nose along his jaw, across his cheek, he noses at his earlobe and presses a kiss to the corner of his jaw.

This is good, Renjun thinks when he lets his head rest against Donghyuck’s shoulder. This is nice.

But then it is right there, with Renjun’s head against his shoulder and Renjun lightly kissing the exposed part of his collarbone, that Donghyuck asks the fatal question.

The tips of two of his fingers trace down the curve of Renjun’s spine, he’s humming quietly under his breath, an unmelodious tune, and he leaves an occasional kiss on the shell of Renjun’s ear, whenever he feels like it. And then, out of the blue, right as Renjun feels he might be able to finally fall asleep right there on Donghyuck’s lap, Donghyuck quietly asks, right into his ear in the same soft tone, “Are you in love with me?”

Renjun tenses up immediately. His muscles lock up and, despite himself, he clings to Donghyuck for dear life. His brain tells him to get as far away as possible, but his body doesn’t let him so much as twitch a muscle.

Donghyuck strokes his flat hand down his back, now. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s okay. I already knew.”

Renjun hiccups a breath, but he still can’t move his head away from Donghyuck’s shoulder. Donghyuck doesn’t let go of him either, his other arm is still wrapped around Renjun’s waist securely. “How?”

“It wasn’t all that hard to figure out,” Donghyuck chuckles, but it’s not mean. He’s still warm around Renjun, and he keeps stroking down his back. “Why you were acting so weird. Why you cried during sex in the not so sexy way, and why you reacted to certain things the way you did. Tonight was just … the final clue, I guess.”

Renjun closes his eyes and tries not to think about the fact that Donghyuck hasn’t said anything about his own feelings. At least he’s not kicking him out. “Was that a test tonight, then?” he asks instead.

Donghyuck hums. “In a way,” he admits. “It wasn’t planned, and it wasn’t very wise, in retrospect.”

Renjun jerkily nods against his shoulder, and it falls quiet between them again. Donghyuck hasn’t responded anything, but he keeps Renjun on his lap, he’s not moving to get him off or tell him to leave. Renjun’s not naive enough to take that as a sign, but — he holds on just a little bit tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually says under his breath. 

Donghyuck’s hand stills on his back for a second, before resuming. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

But there is, when Donghyuck doesn’t seem to feel the same, else he would’ve said it by now. “Jeno threw a drink at you for my sake only three hours ago,” Renjun argues, but it’s not what he really means. Really, he means that all this stuff about love and feelings means that he’s been using Donghyuck’s good intentions and high libido for his own ends, and that he wasn’t truthful to him when their arrangement meant no strings attached.

Donghyuck laughs, though, and it plays a small smile onto Renjun’s face. “Well, he was right to do so.”

It’s quiet again, for a few moments, but it doesn’t feel that uncomfortable anymore. Maybe things will be okay, Renjun almost dares to think. Maybe Donghyuck can learn to love him back. But then —

“I’m the one who should apologize.” Donghyuck’s voice is a lot quieter now, almost hoarse. Renjun tenses up again. “I … led you on, in a way. I should’ve stepped away the moment I suspected it, I shouldn’t have kept on going back to you when I was already suspecting that you were hurting because of me.”

Renjun presses his lips together and stares at the sheets behind Donghyuck. Of course. Donghyuck feels sorry for him, that’s the only reason he’s still here. Still, he foolishly asks, “So you don’t … feel the same way?”

Donghyuck falls dangerously silent. Renjun frowns.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” Donghyuck says after a moment. His hand never stops stroking Renjun’s back. “It doesn’t matter how either of us feels, Jun. We can’t. You know that we can’t.”

Renjun’s throat runs dry. “Why not?” he asks even if he knows the answer. Of course he knows, he’s spent nearly every waking second of the last four months thinking about how much he wants this, and how much he can’t.

Donghyuck laughs, and this time it sounds bitter. Renjun knows better than to shy away from it, though. He’s not laughing at him, he’s not angry at him. He’s angry at the world, because none of this is fair. Renjun knows the feeling all too well. “Because it’s the way things are,” Donghyuck says, and he sounds defeated. “Trust me, I’ve been thinking about ways to make it work, but it won’t. We would destroy our careers. The public would eat us alive. We’re both too popular to be able to afford to be in a relationship, and you know that.”

A first tear slips down Renjun’s face, quickly followed by a second. He does know that. 

“Don’t cry, love,” Donghyuck says, but the nickname makes Renjun cry even more. Donghyuck pulls him up until they’re facing each other, and he thumbs away his tears so gently. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could —”

“Are you in love with me?” Renjun cuts him off. 

Donghyuck seals his lips shut, but there’s something in his eyes. Like pain, but also like he’s begging Renjun to keep on pushing. To not let him go. So Renjun doesn’t — he asks him again, “Are you in love with me?”

“Yes,” Donghyuck replies breathlessly. “Yes, fuck. Of course I am.”

“Then let us try,” Renjun begs. “Please, just. Don’t give up. I love you and you love me, and I refuse to walk out of that door today and close this chapter because we’re too cowardly to stand up. I can’t lose this, not again.”

Donghyuck’s own eyes brim with tears now. “I’m sorry,” is all he says.

Renjun shakes his head and wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand, but the tears keep spilling because he’s always been an easy crier. “I was a wreck after Australia. I barely left my apartment, I got piss drunk almost every day and I slept with Jeno and Jaemin all the time to forget you. It didn’t work, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to survive it a second time.” He looks up at the ceiling. “You shouldn’t have come back if you weren’t gonna stay.”

“I know.” Donghyuck’s hand strokes along his waist now, and Renjun lets him. “I’m sorry for that.”

A sob rips through Renjun’s body, and he holds onto Donghyuck by his shoulders. “Please. Please.”

But Donghyuck only shakes his head, tears swimming in his own eyes. “I can’t. We can’t.”

At least, Renjun knows better than to stay with someone who clearly refuses him. He picks up his shoes and jacket by the door without Donghyuck. They don’t say goodbye, Donghyuck doesn’t see him out the door.

Renjun walks all the way home from Gangnam.

“Renjun?” Jeno’s face appears over the edge of the couch’s armrest like a magazine cut out. He, too, looks cut up and stitched back together. These are strange times for all of them, Renjun guesses, not just for him. “I’m leaving for the store. Do you need me to get you anything?”

Renjun hasn’t needed anything in a while. Jeno toes on his shoes and leaves when he doesn’t reply. His throat is too dry to speak, even if he wanted to. He doesn’t get up to get himself some water, or even a snack.

The days drag by even slower now that he and Donghyuck aren’t talking. It feels like the first weeks after Australia, but worse. Now he knows that he could’ve had him, if they were just brave enough. Now he knows that Donghyuck wants him, too, that there is more to it than a senseless rhythm of sexual tension and desperation, that they both want it to be more than a way to escape their daily life and let out some frustration.

Being sad is even less fun when all you can think about is your missed chance at being happy.

Renjun can’t stand to be alone anymore. His apartment is mostly empty now, it stays that way when he spends most of his days here. They kicked him out of their bed, though, and he can’t really blame them for it. He was ruining their sex life with his moping around on the edge of their mattress. But he doesn’t exactly want to be around when they fuck, either, so he’s quite content with the little nest of blankets and cushions he has built himself on their pull-out couch. As content as he can be at the moment, anyway.

The last days of June drag on slowly, and Renjun starts smoking even more. He only spends money on cigarettes these days, though he figures he’ll have to pay Jeno and Jaemin back once he’s better. For the shelter, and for the food they force him to eat. Not that it would hurt his bank account, but it hurts his pride, just a little.

July comes with even more heat, and Renjun spends his nights almost bare on the couch. He jerks off to the thought of Donghyuck even though he feels sticky and gross all over. Being with someone right now would be the worst thing imaginable, even hotter and more unbearable, but the thought of Donghyuck right here on the couch in his best friends’ apartment still makes him keen and spill over his own hand. It’s sad.

He cleans it all up diligently, and ignore the sounds from the bedroom. Not his life, not his business.

Jeno and Jaemin try to get him to go outside, but he’s only just gotten comfortable with staying in here. They don’t go outside that often anymore, either, because Jaemin is buried in school work and the heat makes Jeno lazy.

Also, Renjun being sad in their space takes a toll on them, too, and Renjun feels sorry.

It feels like he only blinks, and Jeno is already back from the store. He drops bagfuls of groceries on the kitchen counter, and Renjun has only just enough energy to get up and help him put them away.

Jaemin surfaces from the heap of textbooks and papers on his desk about an hour later, and they both join him in his nest on the couch. It’s too hot to cuddle, but they tangle themselves around him all the same and Renjun lets them, mostly because he doesn’t have it in him to fight them off. He rests his head against Jeno’s shoulder.

They don’t talk, because they’ve done enough of that the past weeks. Renjun doesn’t have anything else to say. _He loves me but he doesn’t want me, and I can’t blame him for that, as much as I want to._

Jaemin falls asleep against his chest, the ink of his textbooks seems to have bled into the rings under his eyes. Renjun and Jeno both thread a hand through his hair. They laugh when their fingers bump together, and the sound makes Jaemin stir, but not wake. It’s easy like this. Renjun massages small circles into Jaemin’s scalp. He almost wishes he could be in love with them, instead, because it would be so much easier. He could have everything he wants from Donghyuck without all the pain, the warmth and the laughter and the gentleness. Jeno and Jaemin wouldn’t shove him back, wouldn’t try to hide him. He could have this piece of happiness for himself, too.

But when he lies awake at night with a hand loosely wrapped around his cock and desperate for some kind of release from the heat, it’s just not either of their faces that comes to his mind.

It’s embarrassing, because he knows they can hear him, so he bites into the heel of his palm to stop any sounds or a certain name from spilling past his lips. 

Jeno falls asleep on him, too, and Renjun just stays. He’s too tired to move, but too hot to sleep, so he just rests right there and lets them breathe into his space. It’s easier that way.

The first time Donghyuck texts him again is three weeks later, and Renjun is sitting in an airport.

 _I miss you._ That’s it. _I miss you._ Renjun doesn’t dare to even unlock his phone, he stares at the notification until he threatens to choke on his own tears. He turns his phone off, pockets it and gets on his flight.

 _I miss you._ Of course, Donghyuck is probably just drunk — it’s a Saturday night, after all — and didn’t even mean to hit send. Renjun’s been there, hovering over his phone with a message typed out until Jeno pulled it from his grasp and turned it off. It’s nothing. Of course Donghyuck misses him, but there’s nothing they can do about that. At least not according to him. He said it himself. It was him who turned Renjun away.

Renjun gets on the plane and watches a shitty movie on the screen in the seat in front of him. It’s a short flight, only about two hours until they hit ground in Changchun. He didn’t take a lot with him, only enough to fill up the small luggage he can take into the plane with him, so he’s out of the airport relatively quickly once they land. It’s another hour and a half in the back of a cab until he reaches the borders of Jilin City, and the driver is nice enough to let him out right in front of his parents’ house. He doesn’t know if he would’ve stood a walk through the city.

His mother is waiting for him at the door, and she wraps him in a big hug the second he steps in. 

“Hi mama,” he huffs out as his insides get squished into mousse beneath her arms. “How are you doing?”

“How am _I_ doing?” She laughs and pulls away form the hug, only to give him a light slap on the arm. “How can you ask that? Darling, how are _you_ doing? Are you okay? What happened?”

Renjun swallows around the lump in his throat, and forces a smile. “At the moment I’m just hungry.”

His mother nods understandingly, pats his arm and walks him into the kitchen. “We can talk later. Dinner should be done in a few minutes. Will you go fetch your father from the garden?”

This feels like childhood. Renjun feels like he’s twelve again, treading around the furniture of the familiar living room to slide open the back door and call out his father to come inside for dinner. His parents refused to move when he offered to buy them a bigger house — maybe even in Seoul, so he’d be able to see them more often, but they just shook their heads. This is their home, more than a house. They moved here right after they got married, it’s full of memories. While Renjun didn’t understand then — he frowned, thought they were crazy for preferring these old memories over a bigger place — but he gets it now. He’s glad to be here, in this place that will always make him feel like he’s a kid again. His father smiles at him from where he’s crouched next to one of the bushes.

“Welcome home, Junjun,” he says, and ruffles his hair before he steps into the house. “How’s the city?”

Talking about Seoul and whatever he’s been doing as an actor is a lot easier than to talk about everything else. His father seems to get that. Renjun tells them about how nice the apartment is, and about the movie his agency wants him to audition for next. His mother laughs at the image of him, _him,_ still having to audition.

They sit down to eat, and Renjun devours his mother’s hotpot by the bowls. He didn’t realize how hungry he _actually_ was, but it makes sense. He hasn’t really been eating normally recently, and it’s catching up on him.

They all help with the dishes afterwards, and Renjun watches with a fond smile as his father decorates his mother’s hair with soap bubbles. She screeches when she notices, but it’s worth the laugh.

“Are you gonna join us in the living room, or are you too tired?” his mother asks when everything is put away.

Renjun is indeed very tired, so while he sits down in front of the TV with them for a while, he excuses himself only about half an hour into the show they’re watching. His childhood bedroom is mostly untouched, and they must have cleaned it after he called and said he would be visiting because it’s mostly dust-free. 

The pictures on the walls are still up, posters of his favorite singers and actors and the occasional printed out group photo of him with his elementary school friends. He hasn’t seen any of them in years, and he wonders what they’re doing now. How many of them made it into the careers they were dreaming of back then, how many of them are married, might even have kids already? They’re about that age that people start having families, and it’s a strange feeling. Renjun feels like his career sets him years behind others his age. He doesn’t feel like an adult, and he certainly doesn’t feel like he should be starting to think about a family of his own. He can’t even manage one relationship, who is he kidding? A family is a thought so far away from his mind it’s hard to grasp.

He changes into his sleep clothes and slips under the covers. This bed has been empty for far too long to smell like much of anything, but he likes to think that it still feels like coming home. He presses his face into the pillow and waits until the exhaustion outweighs the worries on his mind.

Spending time with his family is always nice. They drive further up north to visit his grandma, and he spends the night sitting in front of the house, curled up in one of her rocking chairs, eating hotpot and staring at the stars.

His cousins are there, and, obnoxious as they are, they put on a bunch of Renjun’s movies in the living room. Renjun flees the scene rather quickly, and hides from the embarrassment out here. He can still their voices, and occasionally, his own through the TV speakers. His grandma is talking about how handsome he’s gotten.

He tries to ignore the words and traces the stars’ patterns with his eyes. He’s missed them so much.

 _I miss you._ His phone is heavy in his pocket. He still hasn’t opened the message, and maybe Donghyuck has deleted it by now, dying to forget about it. Renjun hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

It doesn’t take long for his mother to step out to join him, dragging her own chair behind her. The breeze is cold out here despite it being the middle of summer, and she’s wrapped in a thick cardigan. She sits down next to him.

For a few minutes, they let silence fall between them. His mother is looking at the stars, too. Renjun wonders if coming back to this house reminds her of her childhood as much as coming back to their house does him. He wonders if she sat out here and looked at the stars whenever she had to deal with problems, too.

“Do you want to tell me about him?” she asks eventually.

There’s a lot he could tell her about Donghyuck. Depending on what she’s asking about, which part of their rather turbulent affair, exactly. “What do you want to hear?” he asks, to deflect.

“Whatever you want to tell me.” She gives him a rather tentative smile when he turns to look at her. “I’m not sure if you need my advice here, because I think you know what you want and you will continue to want that no matter what I tell you. So I’m not here to lecture you. I’m just hear to listen.”

And he does talk. He tells her about Donghyuck and his stupid laugh and even worse comments, the way his humor tears into you until you feeö like strangling him. About how you could never go through with it, because he would blink those annoying puppy eyes at you, and while they make you want to strangle him even more, they also make you go soft way too fast. He tells her about tickle fights, Mario Kart tournaments and sleepovers on the couch, and how Donghyuck almost burned the kitchen down trying to cook for him not once, but twice. And that he’s not even a bad cook, apart from that. He tells her about sleeping in Donghyuck’s bed and looking out over Seoul through his big windows, even though it makes his cheeks burn. He tells her about his eyes, and his soft hair.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t interrupt him once. She just lets him talk, and when he’s done, she has a small smile on her face. “He sounds wonderful,” she says, softly into the night.

Renjun looks down at his hands. “I guess.”

His mother hums under her breath. “I think you like him a lot. And, I mean, you’re an adult, I don’t think I can tell you what to do anymore. No matter how much I want you to stay my little boy, you haven’t been for a long time now. But I think if you love someone this much, it would be foolish to let them go.”

Renjun shrugs, and doesn’t tear his gaze away from his hands. “It wasn’t really my decision.”

“Maybe not.” She cocks her head to the side. “I’m not saying you should chase after him, not after he told you that he doesn’t want to try. And I also — of course, I want you to take care of yourself, and not blindly get hurt again. Seeing you like this breaks my heart. But I also think that you shouldn’t give up on yourself.”

She doesn’t say much else after that, and they eventually move back inside when it gets too cold. 

The TV is turned off, and his cousins are sleeping sprawled out across the two tiny couches. Renjun grabs a blanket out of the stack next to the fireplace and squeezes into a space between two of his cousins. It brings him some comfort, to pretend that he’s still his young teenage self, on a visit to his grandmother’s house for one of the holidays and having a big sleepover with his cousins. They don’t look at him like he’s a stranger from the TV screen, but exactly like they did when he was twelve, with his face full of acne and his snaggletooth not yet fixed.

Jia grumbles in her sleep when his shoulder knocks against her, but she doesn’t wake and he finds a sleeping position with the crown of his head pressed against her elbow, with Yuhan’s knees digging into his back.

Just before sleep claims him, though, he pulls his phone back out and opens the message. The letters blink back at him and in the darkness of the room, the light of the screen stings in his eyes. Before he can think better of it, he pulls his other hand free from under his body, types a reply and hits send.

_[11:23pm] Renjun: I miss you too._

Renjun moves back into his own apartment when he returns to Korea. It’s not that Jeno and Jaemin kick him out, but he’s been playing a parasite in their home for way too long, and he can tell that they’re a bit tired of him and his moping, even if they would never admit to that. He helps them clean up the nest he built, and he pays them back a generous assumption of how much money they must have wasted on feeding him. They loudly protest at that, but they all know that it won’t hurt Renjun, and they do need the money.

Being alone again is strange, after spending all of his time with Jeno and Jaemin or with his family. The thoughts of Donghyuck reach him easier like this, at least twice a day he thinks about contacting him again.

Donghyuck never replied to his reply, and Renjun has to admit defeat. He can’t do this again, another game of chase; he doesn’t think he’ll be able to survive it a second time. Already he feels like he’s suffocating.

He finds himself tapping along to the beat of the music from his earphones on the glass screen of the freezer. Rows of food are staring back it him, but he can’t really decide — after two weeks of his favorite dishes à la his mother and grandmother, the pre-packed food the frozen goods aisle offers doesn’t sound so appealing anymore.

It’s cold, too, the longer he stands there, even if it’s still the beginning of August and the nights don’t really cool down. The cold air blasts into his face and he shivers a bit despite the coat hanging loosely over his shoulders.

Going to the store is the only thing that keeps him alive these days. He makes sure not to fill up his fridge with anything he could make even a hunger meal out of, so that he has to leave the house if he wants something to eat. It keeps him from holing up at home, and it ensures that he has to shower regularly and make himself look presentable. Jeno seemed a bit appalled when he told him this over the phone, but, well, if it works …

He picks two packs of frozen meat meals out of the freezer, finally, and turns around to pay at the counter —

He stops dead in his tracks, limbs freezing up, gobsmacked. From the other end of the aisle, Donghyuck’s face stares back at him, eyes blown just as wide as his own. Renjun has to focus on not dropping his food.

Donghyuck moves first. He takes two steps forward, hesitant, and then another handful until he and Renjun are almost level with each other. The aisle is too narrow for them to stand next to each other like that, but Donghyuck doesn’t seem to want to attempt to shoulder past him. He stops a few steps before, and stares past him.

A few more seconds tick by, and Renjun finds himself helplessly staring at Donghyuck’s face.

He thought he’d be mad at him. These past, what, five weeks? He spent them moping around, crying and letting the wound in his heart fester. He thought the next time he would see Donghyuck, the only thing he’d be able to feel would be anger. Maybe even despair, or some kind of resigned sadness. This is different.

He doesn’t want to hope, but he does so, anyway. Even just a touch of his hand would be enough, some kind of sign that they don’t hate each other, that they don’t have to be mad at each other. 

All those months, and he never truly realized just how desperate he is for Donghyuck.

At last, Donghyuck’s lips do part. “Hi,” he utters softly, and raises his face just a little, enough for Renjun to get a better look at him, with the shadow of his hair brushed away.

He looks — tired, mainly. A bit worn down, but it might be the bright white strobe lights under the ceiling that pale him down a little. He’s not wearing makeup, and maybe it’s the illusion of the big shirt he’s wearing, but Renjun almost wants to say that he lost some weight. 

Renjun tries for a smile. “Hi,” he says back, and takes an almost involuntary step forward.

Donghyuck clears his throat. “I — uh … I didn’t think I would see you here. Since when are you back in Korea?”

“Oh, I’ve — I’ve been back for a few days, now.” Renjun frowns, then, for a second. “But I never told you I was leaving, did I? How did you know I was gone?”

Donghyuck blinks rapidly, a trait Renjun’s picked up on before. “I talked to Ten,” he admits after a second. “He and my manager met up to discuss some … PR related things, you know, because of your friend pouring a glass of wine over my head in front of a hundred guests. He told me you were in China to visit your family.”

Renjun nods. “Right.”

It’s silent for again for a few minutes, until Renjun says, ever so softly, “I missed you.”

Donghyuck’s eyes flit up to look at him, they rake over his face like they’re searching for the hint of a lie, but Renjun keeps his gaze open and honest. He’s not lying, and he texted Donghyuck this, but he must’ve thought he wasn’t telling the truth then, too. Eventually, Donghyuck’s eyes soften up. “I missed you, too,” he whispers back.

Renjun pays for his food at the counter, but he waits for Donghyuck by the door.

Donghyuck walks him home — because they are stupid.

Renjun invites him inside once they’re there, and Donghyuck agrees — because they are stupid. And young, and in love. And they can’t get enough of each other, no matter how hard they try to stay away.

Renjun doesn’t believe in soulmates. He believes in a lot of things that people would deem foolish — ghosts, mermaids, aliens — but the idea of being fated to love someone for the rest of your life has always been ridiculous to him. Humans are nothing if not independent. He does believe in fate, but he thinks the idea of fate undoes the idea of soulmates — if everyone’s life is led by fate, how can you think that they will stay with you forever?

But with Donghyuck, he almost dares to feel like he’s found his own.

It’s not some bullshit about being together forever — especially not with the way they’ve lost and found each other again several times over just the last six months — but it’s the way they work together. The way Donghyuck responds to his jokes with his own, the way they laugh together, their small play fights, their lack of shame. 

And it’s the quiet understanding. The fact that Donghyuck knew he was upset, even though acting is Renjun’s job and he would like to think he’s quite good at it. The fact that Donghyuck always knows what to say, when to hold him, the fact that Renjun finds himself looking out for silent signs in Donghyuck’s behavior, too, always ready to hold, to console, to cheer up. The fact that they follow each other flawlessly, and without question.

They work without words, they only use them for their stupid fights and that’s how they know it’s not serious. As long as they are talking, even if it’s insults, things are good, playful. It’s only bad if they stop talking.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Renjun gasps against Donghyuck’s lips, but he still melts against him. He still threads his fingers into his hair and pulls him closer to his body and his heart. 

They barely made it inside — they’re kissing against the inside of his front door. Donghyuck’s fingers dance down his back, and Renjun twists his own into his hair. Their kisses always taste like a light sheen of sweat and underlying feelings they’ve never been that good at hiding. Renjun can’t believe he was that blind.

It’s desperation and it’s a bit of insanity, they stumble through his apartment and they only make it to the couch. Donghyuck pulls their shirts off and Renjun makes work of their pants — they work in a team like that by now. They leave a trail of their clothes across his floor, and they’re both naked by the time Renjun presses Donghyuck’s hips into the cushion of the couch and kisses patterns against his belly.

They’re not gentle. Not the first time, anyway, because they are both desperate and they’ve missed this way too much to go gently on each other. Donghyuck scratches long red streaks down Renjun’s back, and Renjun doesn’t have mercy on him until Donghyuck is shaking with sobs under him, keeps twisting his fingers until he cries.

“Please, please,” Donghyuck begs, and it feels like a punch to Renjun’s throat. _“Please,_ Renjun.”

Renjun kisses his cheek and indulges him, and it’s all so much better once Renjun finally presses into him. It’s still not gentle, because he thinks Donghyuck might kill him if he slowed down, but it’s better. More intense.

He fucks him until the comes, and he leans down right after to suck Donghyuck’s cock down his throat almost entirely in one go, and it makes him cry out. Renjun swallows around it and sucks until Donghyuck comes with a loud sob and his hands twisted tightly into Renjun’s hair, so hard it hurts.

Donghyuck laughs against his shoulder when they come down from it and Renjun props him up on his lap a little. He sounds breathless. “I forget how fucking good you are at this every single time.”

Renjun grins and pinches his thigh. “Well, I’m right here to remind you whenever you want.”

They make out lazily on the couch for a little while, before they throw some clothes back on and step onto the balcony for a smoke. Renjun settles between his legs and leans his back against his chest as they look out over the city through the smoke of their cigarettes. Their free hands lie intertwined against his stomach.

The second time is a lot slower. 

They move into his bed and take their sweet time undressing each other from the loose clothes they threw on. Donghyuck keeps his lips on his while he fingers Renjun, doesn’t let his moans escape past their bubble.

It’s so much softer. The whole room feels lulled into their warmth, and Renjun’s mind is a bit hazy, this time around, but he isn’t complaining. It’s nice when they do it hard and fast and satisfying. It’s also nice when they do it like this — slow and soft and warm, and with their lips attached to each other.

Donghyuck keeps his hands on Renjun’s waist as he rides him, slowly grinds his hips down onto Donghyuck’s cock. He keeps a hand curled around the back of Donghyuck’s neck to keep their heads close together, to hear his moans and to let him hear his own. It’s tender like that, and this time, nothing hurts. He rides him until his thighs ache too much to move, and Donghyuck flips them around to shallowly thrust into him. 

They kiss when Donghyuck comes inside of him, and jerks Renjun off until he’s claimed by the white hot flames of bliss that spread from the center of his hips. They keep on kissing beyond that. They don’t stop until Renjun feels sticky with dried cum, and they have to move under the shower, where they keep on kissing.

It’s nice. It’s content. It’s warm. Renjun kisses him a little deeper.

It’s only later, with Donghyuck’s head against his chest as they’re curled up in his bed, that Renjun speaks up.

“So what does all of this mean?” he asks, carding his fingers through Donghyuck’s hair.

He’s only ever this soft when he’s about to fall asleep, only ever lets Renjun touch him like this — like a lover, Renjun thinks a little bitterly — when his eyes are already fluttering shut and he’s craving the warmth of a body.

He blinks to look up at Renjun. “What do you mean?”

“I mean.” Renjun sighs, and raises his free hand to push the hair out of his face. “I mean, are you going to leave again? Tomorrow? Maybe tonight already? Are you gonna leave and we’ll go back to not talking and moping around until we run into each other again or one of us gets desperate and shoots a text, and then we’ll hook up again because we both apparently don’t learn, and then it happens all over again? You leave, I leave, and we’ll both just keep on hurting each other until we can’t take it anymore? Where’s all of this going to lead?”

Donghyuck is very quiet, very lax in Renjun’s arms. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and Renjun is almost scared he’s fallen asleep on him. But then he pushes himself up into a sitting position and stares at the wall next to the door, back to Renjun. “I don’t think either of us wants that,” he says.

“Yeah no, obviously.” Renjun scoffs. “So why do we keep doing it? 

Donghyuck shrugs. He stares at his hands in his lap, now, and his voice is hoarse when he says, “I don’t know.”

Renjun fights against closing his eyes. He’s got to face this. “Why are you so willing to let go of this so easily? Why won’t you at least, I don’t know, _try?”_ He’s being harsh, he knows, but he needs an answer.

It’s Donghyuck who closes his eyes, in the end. His hands ball into small fists in his lap, and his brows furrow sharply. “It’s not that fucking easy. My manager has been on my ass extra hard since the thing at the party happened, he’s constantly reminding me of how I have to keep up my reputation, and how I can’t afford dating now, because he’s not stupid, he _knows_ something is going on between us. I can’t lose my job, Jun. Not even for you.”

Renjun swallows around the lump in his throat. He sits up a little more and scoots closer to Donghyuck, traces the tips of his fingers up his spine until Donghyuck relaxes back against him.

“You wouldn’t lose your job,” he whispers after a moment of silence, now tracing up and down Donghyuck’s arm. Donghyuck blinks up at him, confused, so Renjun shakes his head again and smiles. “You’re way too popular for dating to do any serious damage to your reputation. Maybe your company would fire you, and maybe you’ll lose a bunch of fans, but at the end of the day, you’re an amazing actor and too many people love you for your talent, not for your availability. You’d be able to get a new contract. You’d probably gain even more fans.”

Donghyuck frowns at the wall, but doesn’t say anything for a while. Renjun has been thinking about this for a while, almost the entire time he was in China, after that night at his grandmother’s house. It’s a bit unrealistic, to think that they could really lose their entire careers that easily.

So he thought about it. He spent two hours on the phone with Ten, weighing out the possibilities and the terms of the contract he signed, and what exactly the fans loved him and Donghyuck for. It was all hypothetical, of course, back then, but now Donghyuck is here and there is an opening for Renjun to try again.

After a long moment of silence, Donghyuck finally asks, “Are you sure?”

Renjun hums under his breath, but he shakes his head. He lets his hand dance up and down Donghyuck’s spine. “I’m not. I don’t think it would be fair to promise you this. I can’t make any promises and I’m … I’m not saying this to make you ruin your career.” He swallows heavily. “I don’t know anything. I don’t know if we will work out, or if we will be able to keep our careers afloat, because there will be hate, and it will be hard. And I don’t expect you to make this decision today, or even tomorrow. All I’m saying is that I’m willing to try, if you are. Because I think there’s a chance that things will be okay, and that we’ll make it, and what comes with that is too good to let go of, for me.”

Donghyuck is shaking under his hand, and Renjun pulls him closer. He does close his eyes this time.

“Just … if you do decide that you don’t want this, then the only thing I ask for is that this is the end. If you don’t want to try, please don’t come back to me again. Don’t give me hope again, because I don’t know how many more times I can do this before it does me some serious damage. That’s all I ask.”

Donghyuck’s eyes fall shut again, and he leans back against Renjun chest. They fit together better than ever, bodies like made for each other. All his life, Renjun has longed for someone to fit against him like this, and he never understood why all those other people didn’t do it for him. Why he could never stay for more than a few months.

He leaves a trail of kisses along the curve of Donghyuck’s cheek. 

“I don’t believe in soulmates,” he tells him quietly, brushing Donghyuck’s hair back gently. He blinks up at Renjun tiredly, and only then does he realize the time. The rest of his sentence goes unsaid, but Donghyuck wraps a warm arm around him when they settle down to sleep once more, he holds him closer than before, and Renjun knows that he understood him, anyway. He doesn’t believe in soulmates, but he found his anyway.

They don’t have to make decisions tonight. Donghyuck doesn’t have to tell him if he wants to try tonight. If things go as planned, they should have an eternity to make these decisions, for and with each other.

If Renjun doesn’t believe in soulmates, he at least believes in trust. And he’s trusted Donghyuck many times — with his body and his thoughts and his tears — and he’s regretted it, now and then. He lay awake at night cursing himself for trusting someone who’s hurt him before, but he still went back to him. Because ultimately, finally, at the end of it all — Renjun has never truly regretted anything about Donghyuck. 

So he buries his nose in Donghyuck’s hair, still damp from the shower, and lets sleep take him.

They can figure themselves out in their eternity.

“God, that was _embarrassing.”_

Renjun laughs at Donghyuck’s whining as he unlocks the car and pulls open the driver door. It’s a lot colder out, now, with autumn taking over the country with cold rains and winds, and the sun having already vanished behind the horizon. He’s dying to get back inside even despite his coat.

“Stop being a baby, it wasn’t that bad,” he scolds when Donghyuck drops into the passenger seat. He fires up the engine just to get a bit of warmth into his fingers, and pulls out of the apartment block’s parking lot. 

“Yes, it was,” Donghyuck complains. His face draws into a pout. “They hate me, don’t they? I could tell.”

Renjun shrugs. “I don’t think they hate you. They’re just a bit wary, because they were always the first place I turned to when things weren’t going so well. They know a lot about the bad parts, and little about the good ones.”

Donghyuck is not exactly wrong — the dinner at Jeno and Jaemin’s apartment was indeed a tad bit awkward, with the way they kept eyeing him like a zoo animal, and considering the fact that the last time they met, Jeno emptied a glass of red wine over Donghyuck’s head. But they were willing to meet him in the first place, which Renjun would like to consider a win. Donghyuck also behaved himself, and it wasn’t, altogether, _that bad._

Jeno and Jaemin were initially, well, let’s say: not so happy when Renjun told them that he and Donghyuck were going to try. _For real this time,_ he told them, but they still threw a small fit. 

But, like Renjun tells Donghyuck, it’s solely because they only know about the bad parts of his affair with Donghyuck. Renjun came to them crying, broken, scared. Never when he was happy, never when Donghyuck made him feel on top of the world. And that’s what he wants to change.

He wants them to see Donghyuck for what Renjun sees him: warm, and funny, and kind. He wants them to see that he didn’t fall in love with a heartless monster, but with a wonderful man on the odd side of luck.

It might take them a while to be able to see that, but that’s okay. Renjun is used to waiting by now.

He takes Donghyuck’s hand over the gear shift as he drives them down towards Gangnam.

“Thank you,” he says when they pull into Donghyuck’s street. Donghyuck turns to look at him in surprise, and Renjun clears his throat. “Thank you for tonight. For agreeing to come and, well, meet them. You were great.”

Donghyuck’s eyes soften up a little, and he squeezes Renjun’s hand. “Of course.”

They park the car outside of Donghyuck’s building, and they hold hands on the way inside. It still makes heat shoot into Renjun’s cheeks, even just bowing to the security guard with their hands intertwined. No matter how much he wanted this all along, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to being with Donghyuck in public.

It’s been two months — they never made an official statement, they just stopped hiding. They started going out together, holding hands in public. It wasn’t long until the media picked it up, and they didn’t deny anything.

It was hard, at first. Renjun’s PR team screamed at him for making such a move without their permission, without even reviewing with them first. He’s never been more glad about Ten’s presence in a room than when he put a hand over Renjun’s shoulder that day and told the guy to, quote, _shut the fuck up._ He can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like for Donghyuck, who didn’t even have his manager on his side.

Neither of them got fired, which is a good thing. They both even got new projects coming up next year, and Renjun is up for a new CF this fall. Donghyuck has been put on hold for a little, but only until the public calms down.

Things are going a lot better than they expected them to, altogether. 

He leans his head on Donghyuck’s shoulder in the elevator and closes his eyes. He’s been up all day, and he’s starting to feel a little worn out. Donghyuck tucks his arm around him and rubs circles into his hip with his thumb.

They don’t waste time once they’re inside his apartment. Renjun pushes him against the wall next to the door, hikes his hands under his shirt with his lips already on Donghyuck’s. He’s tired, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever be too tired for this. Kissing Donghyuck sparks a flame under his skin, keeps him awake and going.

They’ve gotten better at controlling themselves, too, now that they don’t have to be afraid of wasting precious time together anymore. They still stumble towards the bedroom, but it’s a lot less desperate now.

Renjun tangles his fingers into Donghyuck’s hair almost calmly, pulls him closer with an unmatched tenderness. Their kisses are so much less teeth now, at least when they don’t feel like it. All of it is less show, less performance, less of the wild anger and desperation that Renjun used to love in Australia. He loves this even more — the tender authenticity of the kisses Donghyuck peppers along his jaw, the realness of it all. The way he gasps out Donghyuck’s name because he wants to, and because he can, not because he feels like he has to. 

Putting the act down for the person you love is the most freeing part of being an actor. 

They sink onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, lips only separating to laugh against each other when they struggle to pull free from each other. Renjun obnoxiously licks into his mouth until he makes a gagging sound at the back of his throat, and they both burst out laughing. Renjun rolls over to lie beside Donghyuck.

“Fuck.” He pushes his hair out of his face, breathless. “I really want to fuck you, but I’m so tired.”

Donghyuck laughs and flicks him on the shoulder. “Shut the fuck up,” he tells him, sounding just about as breathless as Renjun as he crawls over him. “I told you you should’ve gone to sleep last night.”

Renjun hums when Donghyuck kisses him again, and rakes his hand through his hair. “You did,” he admits when Donghyuck lets off of him. Donghyuck’s eyes sparkle when Renjun looks into them, and it draws a grin on his face. He knows that look. “But that would’ve been no fun, would it?”

Donghyuck kisses him wild and messy, no teeth but lots and lots of spit until it drips from the corners of his mouth, and Renjun arches into it. He lets his legs fall open for Donghyuck to settle between them.

So that’s how they end up — Donghyuck pushes two fingers into him and Renjun tries not to fall asleep on him like that. Donghyuck is tired, too, Renjun can tell from how sloppy he’s being, even if he puts on a cheery front. They don’t have the energy for proper sex, but that’s okay now. They have all the time in the world, now, so Donghyuck hitches two fingers into Renjun’s prostate and jerks him off until he spills over his hand. And once he’s caught his breath, Renjun crawls over to him and seals his lips around his dick, sucks until Donghyuck curls his hands into his hair and curses, coming down his throat.

He wipes his face and tummy with the wet wipes they keep on the nightstand, for this exact purpose, and sinks into the sheets next to Donghyuck. He throws an arm across Donghyuck’s belly and pushes closer.

“Your hand is gross,” he tells him, and Donghyuck hums. He hasn’t wiped it off.

“Mhm, that’s true.” He reaches over Renjun, and Renjun closes his eyes in peace, until he feels disgusting fingers raking through his hair, and shoots up with a gag. Donghyuck bursts out laughing. 

“What the fuck,” Renjun curses, reaching into his hair to be met with thick drops of his own cum between the strands. He gags again, and Donghyuck laughs even louder. “Oh, fuck you, Lee Donghyuck. You’re so gross.”

“I was trying to, but you told me you were too tired, baby.” He grins, and pushes a thumb into Renjun’s bottom lip when he starts to pout. “Shower?” he suggests.

No matter how tired Renjun is, he’s not about to sleep with cum in his hair, so a shower it is. Donghyuck joins him, wrapping an arm around him and cupping the other hand under his jaw until Renjun stops moping and raises his chin to kiss him. He’s never been able to stay mad at him for long, no matter how ridiculous he was being.

“I’ll let you fuck me tomorrow?” Donghyuck offers when they step out of the shower, and now it’s Renjun’s turn to flick his fingers against his arm and laugh. Donghyuck grins back, looking a bit bashful.

They move back into bed, quietly this time. Renjun tucks his head under Donghyuck’s chin, throws his arm across him to pull him closer once more. Their legs tangle under the blanket until Renjun can’t tell which limbs belong to who, and his eyes sweep over Donghyuck’s chest, out of the window. He likes to imagine that he can see all of Seoul from here, even if most of it is only Gangnam. But it feels good, to think that the city is that small, far beneath them and unable to touch them as they lie up here, tangled in each other.

He lets his eyes flutter shut and snuggles up closer to Donghyuck. It’s nice and warm, like a dream on a cloud, floating above all, and nothing makes his heart grow warmer than the knowledge that it’s not a dream. That this is his reality, that he can and he does have this.. And that is, after all, all he ever wanted him and Donghyuck to be.

A dream come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH IF YOU MADE IT TILL HERE!!
> 
> Honestly, this has been such a journey and I'm almost a little sad to let go of them now that I'm done writing this :"( I definitely grew attached to these characters and I had a lot of fun writing, I hope you enjoyed reading, too. 
> 
> I would be super happy about a kudos, and even happier about a comment if you enjoyed this little big fic of mine :]


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